We have had a beautiful spring. Garden Centers are bursting at the seams, and seed catalogs are strewn all over the house. Time to get serious about planting the garden. This requires an application of compost before anything goes into the ground. I arrive at my mother’s house, the site of our shared garden space. And see this…. Neeners has staked her claim.
So that’s how it’s going to be, is it? Well played, Neeners. The grandma card. Let’s put that aside for a minute and get this compost down. Or should I say Dick is getting it down. And over 20 bags of garden compost later, it is done. Spread, raked, and ready to go.
What’s this I hear? The pitter-patter of my mother’s footsteps along her garden path. She has been out tooling around the countryside, and has arrived home in time for her lunch, which happens to be right around 11:00. She is blissfully happy to see the compost application. That is, until I tell her that we spied Morning Glory coming up in the old tomato bed. “AAAKKKK!!” She is livid. Morning Glory is on Neener’s top 5 Most Wanted List of things she feels must be annihilated from the planet. She wastes no time marching over there, and begins ripping it out by its roots. She is cursing a blue streak, but since this is a family posting, I will not repeat what she is saying. I issue a stern warning: “Neeners!! You are not allowed to put anything on that Morning Glory with a Skull & Crossbones on the label. We are organic!! Do not forget it!!” She emits a low growl and snarls at me like a rabid dog.