Sarah Nigbor

When I take our Bagle (Beagle/Bassett) hound Trapper out to do his business, I put a leash on him, even through we live in the country. If he gets wind of a rabbit, or sees a leaf, or even a butterfly, he’ll take off like a shot. Let’s just say I’m not a speedy runner. The leash is a preventive measure.

Trapper has grown from a tiny pup into a 50-pound lug with clubby Basset paws and a barrel chest. He’s powerfully strong, which he proved in a moment of my distraction.

I stepped out onto our back stoop and my eyes were drawn to my flower garden. I was delighted to see my four-o-clocks had finally bloomed! There were dots of pink, yellow, red and white winking at me from the green shrubs. I was so excited that I forgot I had Trapper’s leash in my hand. He saw the opportunity and yanked me clean off the steps. Somehow I didn’t let go of the leash, but the little beast jerked me off three steps to the lawn below. I hung on for dear life and his foray into the forest after a squirrel was cut short. As I lay on the grass, at least I had a clear view of my beautiful four-o-clocks.

My grandpa and grandma used to have a gigantic garden when I was growing up. I spent hours helping them in it. One of my mom’s favorite photos is me in a diaper picking up potatoes with Grandpa. He grew so much: Potatoes, carrots, green beans, yellow beans, sweet corn, onions, green peppers, dill, cucumbers, rhubarb, strawberries, blackcaps and raspberries. Sprinkled in with the vegetables were always a few rows of flowers: Gladiolas, salvia, cannas and of course my favorite, four-o-clocks.

I was fascinated with these blooming perennials because they open in the late afternoon, around 4 p.m., and stay open until morning, when they close up for the day. Maybe I felt a kinship to them, because I’ve always been a night owl who prefers the quiet, cool hours of dusk to dawn than midday. Their trumpet-shaped blooms have five petals and come in several different colors, including pink, red, white, yellow and magenta. Their sweet scent is similar to honeysuckle and they attract butterflies and bees. They were commonly found in farm gardens, making them an old-fashioned flower.

As their sweet smell wafted toward me, I was taken back to Grandpa’s garden on a summer’s night. We would walk through the garden, checking on everything one last time before he settled into his chair to watch baseball on TV. I never wore shoes in the summer, so I relished digging my toes into the cool dirt. Out of all the chores I had, my favorites related to the garden. I especially liked picking green beans because they’re my favorite vegetable. Digging potatoes was also fun; it was like finding buried treasure.

So even though I felt like an idiot being pulled flat on my face in the yard by a Bagle hound, I had to smile because my four-o-clocks were blooming and it was like I had stepped back in time. I half expected Grandpa to be laughing as I picked myself up from the ground with as much dignity as I could muster. Thankfully Trapper was my only witness and he was too enthralled with a stick to know what I was doing.