As I walked Rebel and Lucky Dawg through the countryside today, I had a stroke of genius. (That’s very rare, and usually these strokes backfire in the end.)
But I was mulling over how to create a clever centerpiece for my Dad’s retirement party on Sunday. I had borrowed an old doctor’s bag from a local physician and was planning to purchase some flowers to fill it up.
Suddenly I looked up from my reverie and saw Lucky Dawg chase a rabbit into a spectacular field of milo. It was reaching maturity, and in the setting sun the field glowed in shades of amber and celedon (that’s rust and green in layman’s terms.)
Wouldn’t that be beautiful stuffed in the bag and enhanced with a few sunflowers? Forgive me, but I broke off a couple of twigs (okay, 12!). I don’t think it was enough for a whole cow meal. I know who owns the land and I’ll send him a check.
I brought them home and sprayed them with Bengal, which has become my signature fragrance. (I do wish someone would invent a bug spray that would double as perfume.) I lined the doctor bag with black plastic so it wouldn’t get wet and stuffed in the milo (in case you haven’t heard, milo is a grain we grow in the south to feed cattle). The effect was nice and a few more sunflowers will complete my ensemble.
Now, I’m wondering what can go wrong. This has been too easy. Will I awake on the morning of the party to a herd of cows grazing in my dining room? Will the milo begin to molt on my white table cloth and could we contract hoof and mouth disease?
I’ll let you know.