I could only surmise he’d somehow taken a wrong turn, ending up here... but there he was, with a small trowel in hand. I watched furtively, from behind my window. He appeared to be digging a hole.
I scratched my head in wonder as I watched him work so diligently. Perhaps he didn’t know beforehand, but S.E. Iowa has plenty of yellow clay soil, not deep under the surface. His back was turned toward the house, so it was difficult to see his purpose. At the same time, I didn’t want him to know he was being watched.
It was then that another rider appeared beside him. His manner of dress was completely different; hatless with long dark braids and wearing a leather shirt and pants. He handed something indiscernibly small to the kneeling man. The man took the item, moving his arms as though he were patting something on the ground.
Then he stood, looking down at the ground for a moment, and replaced his trowel in his saddle bag.
They communicated briefly, I could hear only the sound of their voices. With a nod and wave toward my window, I heard, as plain as day, “Hi, Ho, Silver!” And away they both galloped!
When I was sure they were gone, I quickly stepped outside to see what had been done. “Well, I’ll be...” I muttered. It was a small hybrid Monarda plant called “Balmy.” How did THEY know it was exactly what I wanted?
An adventure of tremendous proportion!