Who would of ever thought that the chuckles I got over Crazy Aunt Purl’s gardener woes would come back to haunt me.
Well, imagine my surprise when I arrived home to discover Francisco’s weed wacker happy cousin – Paco – working in our condo yards!
My neighbors have some lovely hydrangea’s that were just loaded with blossoms – I emphasize WERE! Enter Paco with a weed wacker and a hedge trimmer – can you hear the poor little plants crying – he trimmed off all the blossoms!!
Another neighbor has a gorgeous Rose of Sharon bush – it was equally top heavy with just opening lush pink blooms – which are now all laying around the base of the bush – wilting, dying victims of some cruel, twisted man!
In my front yard – my fox glove had bloomed – and they were so lovely – in pale shades of yellow – like sentinels in the sun. They lined up next to a riot of delphiniums – which were days away from opening to share their gorgeous purple hues with the world around them. That is until Paco arrived…
Paco took out his trusty weed wacker and mowed them all down – to the ground – one lone soldier left – crushed under Paco’s feet.
I surprised Paco with my lunch time arrival – you could probably hear me screaming across the town – and then the tears began.
This seemed to terrify Paco – he urgently shared with me that he remembered not to cut down my butterfly bush, like he had last year! He was very confused as well – he did not know, evidently that there was a whole segment of society that actually enjoyed blooming things!
I shared with him – in a fairly loud voice – if he could remember not to cut down the Butterfly bush – why on earth could he not remember not to cut down the flowers next to it!!
It is a sadist plot, I tell you.
But – there is a Flower Hero!
Enter Ken – when I shared with him the horror I was witnessing – he immediately came to the rescue!
He will be installing some “protective” fencing to keep Paco and his instruments of destruction out!
I am sure I won’t even mind the neon orange color!
oh no! How sad!
I once lived across from a man who told me I had too many flowers. He had one — count ’em, one — flower. I think he was happy when I moved.
But he never came over and whacked it down. That’s just too, too sad. I’m so sorry.
Oh that is too horrible. I was sitting here with my mouth open reading this. Oh it’s just awful. My parents had a neighbor that seemed to hate growing things. She always scalped her yard and cut down trees and whacked her bushes back to within an inch of their lives. She even went so far as to convince a neighbor (NOT my mother) to have one of THEIR trees cut down. Nothing wrong with it, not in anyone’s way but she just couldn’t stand having it growing I guess.
Oh all those flowers. They could have at least graced a vase.
That is awful!
Very, very bad gardener! How can you confuse flowering plants with weeds??? Grr, argh.
(My dad does this kind of thing at my house when he ‘helps me out’ by mowing. “Hey dad! Thanks for mowing… but, this is columbine. Leave it alone!”)