MARK MY WORD: SWIMMING IN A YARD DROWNING WITH POISON IVY

* If I had just stayed inside with a good book, none of this would have happened.

Children don't wait out bad weather well.

Just ask Bailey. Our 4-year-old decided she wanted to splash in our kiddie pool Saturday morning.

Never mind that the Memorial Day weekend dawned damp and our yard was a virtual swamp from Friday's torrential rains.

It didn't help that high winds had toppled part of a Bradford pear tree in our backyard, sending a huge, unforgiving chunk of the tree trunk and limbs crashing onto a metal storage shed.

There was sufficient destruction to garner a couple minutes of attention from both our daughters. But soon 8-year-old Becca was back to playing school indoors.

Bailey, however, wasn't ready to wait for sunny weather.

So Joni cleaned out the little, plastic pool and we hauled it to a nice spot on the driveway. Joni and Bailey filled up the pool.

Dressed in a black swimsuit, she waded into the pool, armed with water wings, swimming goggles and the smile of a super hero.

She couldn't have been happier. "It's cold," she observed as she walked in the cool water.

Bailey asked us to turn on the hot water. We had to explain that hot water doesn't come out of the garden hose.

That doesn't make sense to Bailey. After all, she sees no reason why she shouldn't go swimming even on a dreary, gray, rainy day.

Of course, in such situations, a heated kiddie pool would suit her best.

We soon convinced Bailey to take a raincheck on the driveway pool and retreat to the dry indoors.

Naturally, we promised that the sun would come out tomorrow or sometime this millennium.

Bailey can't wait. More so than Becca, Bailey is a nature child. She loves to run outside barefoot, wearing nothing but a swimming suit. It's her favorite attire even in the dead of winter.

In contrast to Bailey, I'm not nature's child. I prefer air-conditioned comfort to the hardships of the outdoors.

The other day I bravely decided to weed the front bed of ivy only to end up with an armful of poison ivy.

I thought there was only the nice kind of ivy in the bed. As it turned out, I was wrong.

This wouldn't have happened if I had sat on the couch and curled up with a good book.

According to the encyclopedia, poison ivy is a member of the cashew family. Personally, I like cashews. But this poison ivy stuff is just plain irritating.

When it comes to poison ivy, Mother Nature doesn't play nice.

Where's the EPA when you need them? The EPA spends millions cleaning up unseen PCBs deep down in the soil.

But EPA officials aren't at all concerned with getting rid of a poisonous, low-life weed or even putting warning labels on our front yards.

Naturally, my latest bout with the dreaded ivy has put my attack-the-weeds-in-the-yard plan on hold for now.

If and when I go on the attack again, it will only be in full battle gear. A space suit might be a good idea.

Meanwhile, Bailey is hard at work. She has promised to make me lunch.

Of course, there's a limited menu. She likes a cheese, bologna and Cool Whip sandwich, heavy on the Cool Whip.

Personally, it's not my idea of lunch. But it's the thought that counts, even if it is a little messy.

As for Bailey, even lunch takes a back seat to playing in the pool or anywhere else outdoors.

That's fine. I only have one piece of advice: Stay in the pool. The water's fine. The ivy isn't.

Mark Bliss is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.