So much depends

I now have a red wheelbarrow. And that’s something of a milestone.

I’ve owned it for several weeks now, purchased for the express purpose of moving rocks from one area of the lawn to another.

We have been building a shed. As I am of little use for the bigger tasks, I am generally asked to do things like dump gravel into post holes by the shovel full. I thought, A wheelbarrow sure would come in handy.

And I eyed the large rocks the ground produced when the site was being cleared, and thought, I will use those to edge my garden. A wheelbarrow sure would come in handy.

I drove to Kent, determined to leave with a wheelbarrow. From the six or so they had on hand, all secured with a cable and a system of two-by-fours in the parking lot, I rationalized my choice of this one, this red one. Metal bucket, wooden handles. Sturdy, solid. Easily replaceable parts. RED. The only red one. And I thought, How lovely that would be. A red wheelbarrow.

I fit it in the hatch of the Fit, barely, drove it home, and unloaded it. Tucked it around the back corner of the house where the tap for the garden hose is, in an effort to protect it from the elements.

With the first rain, it filled with water. I dumped it out, considered leaning it against the wall as prevention, but then worried the wind would knock it over and damage the red finish. Figured water was the lesser of two evils. Put it back down. It filled with water again.

The price tag, slid into a high quality plastic sleeve and attached with the sturdiest zip tie I’ve seen, flapped in the breeze, sounding vaguely like a playing card in a bicycle wheel. It hadn’t been the most expensive of the lot, but pricey enough that I tried to turn the tag so the dollar amount wouldn’t show. I had nothing immediately at hand strong enough to cut the zip tie, so it stayed, flapping, a testament to the vanity of my dreams. A speedy red wheelbarrow.

Then, as the roof of the shed we are building was put on, I rolled the wheelbarrow over to sit under it, square in the middle. Red roof, red wheelbarrow, A lovely sight.

I had yet to move any rocks, but it sure was pretty to look at.

At some point, someone practical minded (oh, I know who), started putting scrap metal and wood into the wheelbarrow. Piling it up. It’s filled now with all manner of garbage, ready to be wheeled over to the pile of construction debris that’s waiting for the day we rent a dumpster to haul it all away.

We have no white chickens.

But we do have a red wheelbarrow filled with debris under a red roof, at the ready. All stones left unmoved and unturned, it’s still a beautiful sight.

With apologies to William Carlos Williams: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45502/the-red-wheelbarrow