Friday, June 25, 2010

Aaaaah. Friday.

Aaaah. Friday night.

What a nice night it was for a drive. The Man and I stopped in at a friend's house to pick up some day lilies she was digging up.

We miss the day lilies we had at our last home. There were hundreds of them and they bloomed all summer long.

Now? We have none.

Since I can't grow anything, I took the Man with me to talk to them and dig them up and tell them it would be okay, he would be taking care of them.
We meandered our way through back country roads, past corn fields and cow pastures and horse farms. Through older sections of small towns with churches and steeples and brick buildings and buntings in preparation for the fourth of July.

We sat and enjoyed homemade carrot cake and iced tea and lots of good conversation. My friend and her husband have lots of stories to tell, especially about home repair.

We laughed until we hurt our cheeks. And then we kept laughing.

"My brother was cleaning out the stalls one day with a pitchfork and when he went to swing it in front of him, he put it clean through his thigh, catching the muscle. There wasn't a lot of blood so he didn't panic and run screaming or anything. Later that night, when the boys came in for dinner and had washed up, my brother casually asked my mother, 'If a person were to put a pitchfork through their thigh, do you think they should go to the doctor?'

Well, you can imagine the reaction of my friend's mother as she scurried to get her son to a doctor, pronto.

I love swapping stories like these. Especially with older folks. They got into more trouble than we did.
Back on the ranch (I always wanted to say that)....

Our lettuce looks great and tastes oh-so-good. I tell you, the Man is a plant whisperer just like his mom.

But there's something rotten in Denmark. The Man had planted some sunflowers for me and one of them was a super achiever. It was about a foot taller than the others. We called it "Jack" because it reminded the Man of the beanstalk in the story "Jack and the Beanstalk".

Jack is gone.

Or rather, a large piece of it is gone. There's only about twelve inches of stem left. The top is kaput. Gonzo. Sayonara. See you later.

Only we don't know where it went.

Someone mentioned chipmunks but I'm wondering about the Man. He has a track record for destroying flowers I like. I should see if there's remnants of it on the lawn mower.

Just call me Miss Marple. I have a new case, "The Disappearing Sunflower".

More hearts. Leaves make the nicest hearts, don't you think?

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