There isn't a better season in the Midwest than spring. Summer, fall, and winter can all be enjoyable for swimming, hiking or skiing, but I've always found something particularly invigorating about springtime: the fertile smell in the air as the ground thaws out and the spring flowers and grasses begin to grow; the balmy breezes from the southwest that let you go outside without needing to bundle up; the growing daylight that extends past 7 o'clock in the evening so you can enjoy the sunset at home with a glass of Chardonnay instead of at work with a Sprite.
I've always been one of the first in my neighborhood to get out in the spring to clean up the yard, plant flowers or transplant shrubs, or just sit on the patio and contemplate what changes I'd like to make in the landscaping. After spending nine or ten hours at work, nothing beats working in the yard to relieve stress and cleanse the soul. It has also been good therapy for getting over the loss of my beautiful wife in a traffic accident.
It was in the spring a year ago when the season was new and the air was fresh and the warm breeze foretold of great things to come when a most serendipitous event changed my life. The early evening air was warm and fertile and the breeze was blowing softly from the south a delicious light wind that made me pause every few minutes just to breathe in and feel a renewed vigor throughout my body. I was planting some arborvitaes along the fence that lines the side of my yard to screen off the traffic on the roadway and the sidewalk and make the yard a bit more private. I had the holes dug and lined with peat and mulch and was struggling to get the batch of new shrubs set in before dark.
As I paused to take in another breath of the fresh spring air, I caught the scent of summer flowers coming my way. I looked up to see where it was coming from and was startled by the most lovely young woman I had ever seen, dressed in a little white athletic shirt and matching running shorts, trotting along the sidewalk, coming my way. Looking down at my dirty jeans with the torn knees and my muddy boots, I realized that I must look a sight, my white t-shirt covered with dirt and sweat, and my hair all matted and stuck to my sweaty brow. I ran a gloved hand across my forehead absentmindedly, surely smudging my face with mud.
I tried to smile as she approached. She was looking in front of her and couldn't miss my admiring gaze; her light brown hair was tied back behind her head; her dark eyes sparkled; her fair complexion was flushed with the glow of a good run; her firm young breasts bobbed in concert with her trotting pace, secured surely by a sports bra. As she neared me, she smiled.
"Nice evening for a run," I called out, leaning on my shovel.
"Nice evening for yard work too," she replied, her mouth curled into a straight white, toothy smile.
What a pretty girl! I thought to myself as she passed by, the scent of her perfume filling my head with its light rosy fragrance. My eyes followed along as she ran past, noting the bobbing curves of her cute little butt accented by the red trim on her shorts. Ah, springtime! I thought. When a young man's fancy turns to what the girls have been thinking about all winter long!
I watched her for the next minute as she continued along the sidewalk until her swaying ponytail moved out of sight when she turned down the next block. I began to muse as I returned to my planting. What if she runs every night? What time is it? Maybe I have one more reason to be outside around this time. Foolish thoughts, all of them, but since I had lost my wife foolish thoughts seemed to occupy my mind quite frequently. Before long though, the foolish thoughts had propelled me through my planting chore and I soon found myself sitting on a patio chair sipping some White Zinfandel and thinking about what other landscaping was required along that side of the yard. I wondered about what sort of impression I had made on her, all wholesome and fresh scrubbed, as I stood there sweaty and dirty. But then I also thought about possible lines to spring on her and a few snappy comebacks should she get the first word in.
The next evening found me outside, checking on my newly planted shrubs. She didn't pass by and I found myself feeling even more foolish for getting worked up over the passing of a pretty girl. What if that was the only time she ever passes by? I thought. Wednesday found me working late and I didn't get home until nearly dark. Thursday I was home early and out getting the flowerbeds ready for an early planting, but there was no sign of the cute little lady with the long ponytail.
By the time Friday came along, I had gotten rid of any pretensions about the runner. Happenstance, I thought. Just one of those things! So I mixed a tall Manhattan and sat out on the patio for a while thinking about how a bed of roses would look nice along the back fence. It was another gorgeous night, just as Monday had been. Those same fertile hints of spring were in the air. I wandered out to get a better look, bringing my glass along.
Moving slowly along the back fence sipping my bourbon and vermouth, laying out a mental plan for the roses, that delicious summer flowery scent caught me and brought my sight toward the sidewalk. There she was trotting along just as before, the same rosy glow, the same sweet smile, and the same ponytail. She was wearing a different outfit though, pale yellow, a little snugger at the bust and lower cut, forcing my gaze to drop a few inches to her lovely firm little tits, bouncing more freely than the other evening.
"Hey!" she called out, breathlessly.
"Hey!" I called back, still surprised by seeing her again.
Her smile broadened as she ran past. I thought I saw a wink. Maybe it was a blink from some dust or something. I took a sip of my drink as I watched her move away. Hey!? I thought. Hey!? Is that the best comeback you can make up? Jesus! Well, at least I looked more presentable, still dressed in my casual Friday work clothes. You are such a klutz! I thought. She probably thinks I'm a real dunce! I walked back to the patio and sank down into a chair. At least she came back. Let's see, Monday and Friday. Maybe I would have to make sure I'm in the right place to really introduce myself. That's right, the next time I would introduce myself to the runner and find out her name--if there was a next time.
The next week I found out that there would be a next time. On Monday, I saw her pass by in her white outfit, but was on the wrong side of the yard to do anything more than watch and dream. On Wednesday I saw her coming and was in position to casually lean on the fence to greet her. Since it was cooler, she was in a long-sleeved red sweatshirt and running pants. But she looked terrific. Maybe it was running regularly that kept that healthy rosy glow on her face; maybe it was because she was so young and pretty. Whatever the reason, I was mesmerized.
"How's it going?" I called out.
"Great!" she replied. "How's the garden?"
"Doing fine!" I said.
And she was quickly gone. No name, but there was interaction. At least she thinks I'm out here gardening, not just plotting to meet her. I didn't see her on Thursday, but was ready on Friday. Although I got home late, I mixed my usual cocktail and wandered out to check on the arborvitaes. When I caught wind of that flowery scent, I stood up to see her trotting along. Say something to get her to stop, I thought. Find out her name! She saw me and began to slow down. All right Steven, here's your chance!
"Hi," she called out more breathless than usual.
"Hi, yourself," I replied. "How's your run going?"
"Not too good," she admitted, slowing down to a walk. "Too much to eat at lunch."
"Got to watch those Friday lunches," I said.
As she drew near she stopped, placing her hands on her hips and sucking in some extra air.
"I should know better than to drink at lunch," she confessed. "But it was a birthday party and everyone wanted to split a pitcher."
"Gotta watch out for peer pressure."
"Yeah," she said showing that broad sweet smile.
"By the way, I'm Steven," I said extending my hand over the fence toward her.
"Hi, Steven. I'm Jessie," she said taking my hand in hers for a polite shake.
Her hand was so small compared to mine, with delicate little fingers and nicely manicured nails. The skin was soft as a tissue. I didn't see any rings on either hand.
"You run pretty regularly," I said.
"Yeah. Just like you do your yard work. Once you stop, it's hard to catch up."
The bulky sweatshirt disguised her supple young body and made it easier to maintain eye contact as we stood talking for several minutes. We kept it to small neighborly small talk. She lived in the apartments nearby and ran three times a week. She had moved in over the winter and was fulfilling a New Year's resolution to adopt a healthier lifestyle.
"Well, it shows," I said, trying to come up with a compliment. "You look pretty healthy already."
"Your yard is looking pretty good too," she said in return. "I wish I had a place to do some flower beds and all. But I'll settle for a flowerbox on my balcony."
"Well, anytime you feel like pulling weeds or something, come on by."
"Right!" she said with a laugh. "Well, I should be going."
"See you around, Jessie!"
"See ya!" she said with a smile and a nod and then started off down the sidewalk.
That was only the first of many conversations we would have over the next couple of weeks. She kept to her regular running routine and I kept working on my yard. I'm sure the neighbors began to notice that one side of my yard received more attention than the other. The arborvitaes were the healthiest young shrubs that I had ever set in. The grass and flowerbeds were tended with extra care that only time can provide. And I also cultivated my friendship with Jessie, the runner. We talked about the neighborhood and the weather. Whenever I tried to move the conversation toward more personal ground, she seemed to always bring it back. Maybe she was in a relationship and wasn't interested in more than being a nice neighbor. She was so young; it would probably be better than way.
Spring soon shifted into summer, the days growing longer and my yard more lush. On one Friday, the warmest day of the young year, I was out making my usual inspection, when Jessie came along a little earlier than usual. She was in a skimpy white running outfit that clung to her body quite nicely. As she paused for our evening conversation, she began to do some stretching exercises, leaning forward and turning from side to side, as if to loosen up her back. The sight of her young fit body with the lightweight white outfit clinging to her was driving me nuts. She raised her arms above her head, stretching the fabric tightly over her beautiful little tits, so much so that her rosy nipples showed through her shirt and thin cotton bra.
