More WTF?! Gardening

So, I come home last night to find my parents standing in my lilac bush just enjoying the smell of the blooms. And I say to my mom, “Did you see my bluebells? They are the only things blooming right now except for the daffodils.”

And my mom says, “But what about those white things?”

And I say, “What white things?”

And I go and look in the flowerbed which last year contained only hostas and which this year contained, supposedly, only hostas and the two types of bluebells I planted AND there are some small white things. And some small blue things. I will take pictures, of course, but pictures or not, a girl has to ask, “What the fuck? Where were these things last year?”

And what is it about this year that has brought them out?

In other news, the Butcher is going to try to shoot down the high up tent caterpillars with the power washer. I really, truly wish I were at home to see this.

Hell, I wish y’all were at my home to see this. We could all stand out on the front yard, with our cans of Diet Dr. Pepper, some of us milling about admiring the daffodils, some standing too close to Henry the Magnolia, some splashing in the creek. And we would say, “Um, someone should tell those guys not to stand in the cre….”

But by then it would be too late. The Butcher would have switched on the power washer and, hopefully, nests of tent worms would be raining down into the creek.

Once the inevitable fist-fights wound down, I would hope some of you would look into the flowerbeds which last year were very boring and explain to me where, this year, all these plants are coming from.

I am going to imagine, in the meantime, that it’s land wights.

Where are Our Parents?

The Butcher is going out now to discover how it can possibly be 7:40 in the morning and our parents are not yet awake. I mean, sure, they sleep in, but they’re Midwesterners. Seven o’clock is sleeping in for them.

Plus, they’ve been in the Eastern Time Zone all week. So, technically, this is 8:40.

I had to take Tiny Cat Pants off my iPod Touch because the old folks were not just using the iPod Touch to play games, as promised.

And the Butcher returns, and reports that he didn’t catch them doing anything scandalous, but that they appeared to be breathing.

And now Dad is up!

And wearing plaid pajamas.