I sure hoped the neighbors wouldn’t drive up. My square purple flashlight was teetering on the curb by our driveway and my hands were solid mud.  I’d told the guy I live with that I was going to take out the trash and water the flowers I planted last Saturday and then I’d be back to watch the evening news with him.

I meant to water the plants this morning, but I got up late and there wasn’t time before work.  Actually, I was going to water them yesterday morning, too, but for some reason I didn’t – and then I forgot to do it when I got home from work last night. So here I was, at eight o’clock in the evening, with my flashlight and a garden hose stretched across the driveway, splashing night water on the flowers.

They’re really pretty – yellow daisies of a fragile sort mixed with rose-colored and deeper rose-colored daisies. Ageratum, the lady at Nurseryland told me, not daisies. And a few white phlox amidst them. But I didn’t have enough time last Saturday, so six one-gallon containers sat patiently on the concrete, waiting their turn.

The beam of my flashlight fell on one droopy yellow daisy. Definitely needed to find its home in the soil – and soon. But it was dark. What would the neighbors think if they saw me out there in the dark with a flashlight and a shovel?

I pushed aside all thoughts of getting caught in the act, set the hose in the flower bed – still running water - and grabbed the shovel I’d left leaning against the wall. Promised myself I’d just plant the droopy one. Maybe one more…

The dirt was soft and the holes were easy and the plants – all six of them – went nicely into their new homes. The hose, the shovel handle, my shoes, my hands, my watch – they were all covered with mud from the running water. But not a single neighbor drove up. Lucky me. I watered the freshly planted flowers, hosed down the muddy shovel and flashlight and headed up the driveway, back to the house.

At the house, I shed my shoes, went inside to wash up, then settled in to watch – um, let’s see… Oh yes, “West Wing.” New episode. A good one, too. Read a really good book during the commercials.

Which brings me right to the point. This Thursday is Thanksgiving. You knew I was getting to that, didn’t you? I mean, what else would all this nonsense about planting flowers in the middle of the night with a flashlight be leading to?

I was thinking. Halloween and Christmas have kind of gobbled up Thanksgiving. You don’t hear much about turkey day any more. Maybe because we don’t get to dress up in costumes and no one gives us bags of candy and there are no gifts or holiday decorations and we don’t think much about saying thanks any more. There isn’t time.

So I thought I’d give thanks for a few little things I’ve enjoyed this year. The first is you – thank you for you. (I’m not telling you why – only saying thanks!) And the second is for the flowers that brought me out in the dark on a balmy November night. And wasn’t it a beautiful day today? Sun shining, blue skies, clear air that makes you want to stretch out your arms and reach for the clouds. Or the top of that palm tree over there. Or for the scruff of the neck of ol’ Sadie to give her a warm rub over her aging fur coat.

Yep. Most of the thankful stuff is small and sweet and it’s good to have a day to savor it - and the turkey that goes with it. ___________________________________________________________________

Dusting off the ol’ umbrella – a hundred and eighty-two days of sunshine, that umbrella collected a whole lot of dust molecules. Rain’s been pouring down off and on since yesterday and s’posed to be more tomorrow and I have a two-block walk from the parking lot to my office so that ol’ umbrella’s gonna be put into service once the dust molecules have found a landing spot.

I keep a little black fold-up umbrella in my car. Mostly by the time I get where I’m going the rain has slowed to a faint mist and I leave the umbrella behind because I love the feel of wetness on my face. Trouble is, umbrellas have a way of getting even. You leave them behind, they speak to the rain gods and at the end of the day when you head back to your car, a sudden downpour thunders onto your unprotected head, new suit and suede shoes. Some days you just know you’d better take that umbrella along – which is fine, but then you wind up at your office door with a thoroughly wet umbrella and what do you do with it now?

Can’t leave it outside - the wind will blow it away. Can’t leave it inside - it’s too wet. Plus it’s kind’a big to set anywhere. If you collapse it so it’s small enough to fit in the corner, how’s it ever going to get dry? Usually I shake it hard as I can to get the surplus drops off before I go in, but I have to shake it really fast because while I’m shaking I’m getting drenched.

Inside the office I set the umbrella neatly on the floor but it topples over no matter how careful I am and it pokes me in the leg every time I get near the file cabinet so I collapse the thing about halfway, the soaking wet folds hanging limply at half mast and I set it on the visitor’s chair, hanging over the edge. When the visitor arrives, um – well, um – now what? Even if I move the umbrella, the chair’s all wet.

Besides, now the visitor needs a place to set his umbrella and I don’t even have a place for his raincoat, let alone his dripping umbrella. After sizing up the situation, he cautiously opens the door and quick sets his umbrella outside but the wind picks it up and blows it across the courtyard and off he goes. Finally we fold up both umbrellas to their smallest dimension, hang his coat over the file cabinet and tend to business.

This morning when I got to the parking lot it was barely misting, but I brought my umbrella to the office just in case. The day went smoothly – as much as a day at work can do that – and about three o’clock I tucked a few papers in a manila folder and set out across the open courtyard to the main building to check my mail and make some copies. No rain in sight. I left the umbrella behind.

When I finished with the copies and all, I headed to the door to go back to my office. Outside the door, rain was bouncing off the courtyard harder than basketballs bounce off a gymnasium floor. But I’m no slacker. I tucked the folder under my jacket, opened the door and started walking. Real fast. Running. Kind’a fast. By the time I got to my office huge splats dotted my skirt, the folder was limp and soggy and my hair was wetter than –well, you know.

It’s always good to have an umbrella handy on a rainy day. It’s even better if you don’t leave it behind.