In addition to, you know – the usual – I’ve been working here and there in the garden. Here are a few snippets from green side …
Annoying sorts. I have long maintained that garden centers are a good place to be, for gardeners are a happy lot. Except perhaps when you’re in a hurry. The other day, for instance, I ran in to purchase some rose food and potting soil. That’s all I needed. Two things. Unbeknownst to me, however, it would take me 45 minutes to check-out. Forty. Five. First off, the woman in front of me insisted on buying ten stones – of which they could not find the proper five-digit number. Four people and a half an hour later, they were victorious. For my turn, I was informed the potting soil was outside; I needed only to pay, pull in back, and put said soil in the trunk. Well I paid, got in my car, drove over to where the potting soil was suppose to be, and it was nowhere to be found. I reparked. Got out of the car, grabbed a cart, wheeled it to the back of the garden center, only to find an empty shelf where my potting soil should have been. So I threw the closest in price onto the cart, wheeled it back to the cashier, where I was promptly informed that I would need to go inside to customer service for any sort of cash back. At that point, what was a dollar? To end it all, on the way out some old lady whacked the side of my cart, “We’ll just following this one out and take her cart when she’s done.” Suddenly, I knew what Alice must have felt like when the flowers turned on her …
Dill-thief. Each year we purchase a new herb for our herb garden. This year we opted for dill. I mean, how much fun would that be? Fresh dill! We finally got it planted. It seemed happy in it’s new home, surrounded by rosmary, sage, and thyme. All was good. Until Tuesday night. Tuesday night some rodant got a hankering for dill. It ate our whole plant – right down to nubs. Wretched varmet!
Evil feline. Speaking of wretched varmets, I’m currently watering flowers for my aunt and uncle while they are on vacation. I’m also feeding their cat. Their cat is evil – as in the fru-its of the de-vil. I know this. And I usually steer clear. But she seemed so pitiful yesterday. She looked so little in that big house all by her lonesome. So when she came up to be and rubbed around my legs, I gave her pets. She purred, rubbed around my fingers for more. Then – out of nowhere – she grabbed my hand, bit it, and hissed. Like any rational adult, I simply walked away, leaving her to her snit … then, when she was sitting in the screened porch, watching me water the flowers, I sprayed her a good one. It’s probably not right the glee that filled my heart … but, as we all know, it is the little things …