On a lovely evening in a moment of blissful ignorance, my husband and I took a charming stroll in our backyard.
Lori Clinch is the mother of four sons and the author of the book “Are We There Yet?” You can reach her at www.loriclinch. com. We enjoyed the birds, the flowers and nature in all of her splendor.
“Look at that beautiful vine, will ya!” I exclaimed when I saw that a hardy plant was taking root all on its own.
I couldn’t help but believe that the powers-that-be were smiling upon us. After all, how lucky could we be that a gorgeous vine would appear in our midst.
It was just growing there and dare I say, abundantly! I pulled some of the vine out of the ground and just as Eve did for Adam in the Garden of Eden, I offered my husband the forbidden fruit.
“You don’t suppose that it’s poison ivy or something like that, do you?” he asked as he eyed it suspiciously.
“Oh, heavens no,” I responded as if I were an expert of all things botanical. “I’ve never seen poison ivy in our yard.” I made the mistake of thinking that if I haven’t seen it, then it just couldn’t be.
“Don’t they say that poison ivy has three leaves with a little bit of red in the middle?” he asked.
And that, my dear friends, was the beginning of the end of all things good. Although I still believed that poison ivy wouldn’t dare have the audacity to grow in our midst, we went straight to the house and washed our hands – just in case.
Although I had scrubbed diligently, I left my handy dandy gardening attire on. Then, being a good mom, I sat for a spell and watched “SpongeBob SquarePants” with my arms wrapped around Little Charlie.
As if that weren’t enough parental bonding, I went downstairs to spread my love and joy, making sure to take the time to caress Huey’s face and offer up a quick and heartfelt “Mommy loves” to the other kids.
It was only a matter of time before I took a gander in the mirror and noticed a rash was descending upon me. “And just where was this rash?” you might ask. Well, I’ll tell you this, it wasn’t on my forearm where one could cover up with a smart jacket. Not on my calves where they could be fashionably hidden by a pair of capris.
No sir, the rash was right on my face. That’s right. I had a nice and lovely spot on my right cheek, a series of bumps and hives on my left, and just to round things out and leave no pore unscathed, a large and fun-filled blister running the length of my chin and up to my right ear.
I stared at myself in disbelief. This couldn’t be an allergic reaction. For that would mean that I, Lori A. Clinch, lover of nature and all things botanical, had been exposed to poison ivy and didn’t even know it.
Turns out that poison ivy is not only evil, but has a mind of its own. There’s no method to the madness. No sir. It would seem that it’s the gift that keeps on giving.
My poor Huey who spends the better part of his day admiring himself in the mirror showed up with blisters on his cheek. And I’ll be dogged if Little Charlie didn’t show up with hives and report that he “stinking itched like crazy!”
As the three of us began to blister and swell with more and more spots, other members of the Clinch abode were responding as best they knew how. My husband said from afar, “Boy that’s something!”
Our Lawrence was shaking in his flipflops and lathered up every time our paths crossed, and Vernon, our wisecracking college son, began sleeping with his Bible and took to flashing crosses at us whenever we came near.
They have done everything but sit us out on the curb and leave us there, chanting “Unclean! Unclean!”
So much for sympathy. My mom has restricted contact to the phone, friends have canceled lunch dates and Dave Simpson’s wife, aka The Wife, called me a dope and told me she’s seen people who are much worse than we are!
And if that isn’t bad enough, word is spreading that I, Lori A. Clinch, outdoorsy and nature-loving woman, was stupid enough to contact poison ivy. The stinking phone is ringing off the hook with know-it-all folks calling to say, “Haven’t you heard with leaves of three to let them be?”
My plant aggression is escalating, the last “former friend” who quoted the little poem, got this response from me, “You wouldn’t know sumac from a petunia, so shut your piehole! ”
I’m so full of love right now. And if anyone wants a hug, just stop on in – they’re free!