Name a critter, and we got’em. We live in The Ancient One’s house smack-dab in the middle of a nice neighborhood in the central part of the city. The Mama raccoon has babies too. She tells us to get the hell away from our deck when she takes them out for a night-time stroll. She competes for scariest sounds with the possums when startled. It sounds like some horrible physical attack by an alien creature, and you better WALK AWAY. They’re not so fast, so you can walk and not run, but walk fast because they get pissed!

In the mornings, the birds just get carried away. We have about 379 different kinds of birds and they sing, chirp, click, bleep and peck their way through the early morning to the absolute delight of the Midlife Gals, but they drive the cats CRAZY. Oh, yeah, the cats...approximately 34 neighborhood cats wander through our yard on any given day. Those who are friendly come up onto the deck, and if they are wearing collars (especially with little bells), we take them off. Who does that...puts a bell on a cat so that they can’t do what they were born to do...HUNT. Their owners are obviously not cat people. And, if those collars are replaced, we do it all over again. We have a drawer full.

SalGal has named all of our potted plants. She’ll try to explain herself with her post, but I think that’s weird. I’ve come to call the palm, Cleo though. I need to humor her so that she won’t ask me to do any work in the garden. And, when she works in the garden, she wears an OLD pair of sandals...not just any sandals, Cole Haan sandals. They were perfectly lovely when she started gardening in them after we moved in with The Ancient One. I guess it’s an affirmation that she is above wearing sneakers or clogs or actual gardening shoes (ARE there gardening shoes?). At least she doesn’t wear a tiara (Gawd, I hope I haven’t just given her the idea!).

Spring is sprouting out all over our garden. New life, more spiders, bugs, flies and dead blooms to be plucked. More work for Sal. Good for her. We each have our jobs in life, and this is NOT one of mine.

KK

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My garden is my sanctuary, and I don’t think it’s weird at all that my plants have names.  They feel vibrations you know.  They can feel the vibration of being appreciated.  Every plant that KK hates has a hard time thriving.  Bonnie Bigdealia is a succulent that KK dislikes and so she is afraid to come out.  Her new leaves are just peeking out, as Cleo the palm, The Gerber Baby and Rosie flourish and reach out for her.  I feel sorry for Bonnie Bigdealia.  She has produced some flowers at the tips of her pathetic red stems in order to gain favor with KK.  It’s so sad.

Giney Vaginetti is my hydrangea.  She is supposed to have giant blue blooms every summer but she has bad luck or karma or something.  Just when her flower bulbs get ready to turn into full fledged flowers, a possum or armadillo or raccoon sneaks into the garden at night and eats them.  Once a giant storm came and destroyed all of her babies.  She is depressed and in need of some cow shit.  She tries so hard and all in vain.

It is as if the plants and trees know when I’m there and they welcome me.   Two weeks ago I was watering some iron plants under Myrtle (the tree) and she swept a lacy branch down and stroked my hair in gratitude.  It was so nice.  And really, I don’t mind the flea nests in my bangs at all.

Last week I pulled and dug up all those stupid dandelions that had decided to infiltrate the garden.  I never would have noticed so early in the spring unless Caesar (our giant tree on the deck) hadn’t alarmed me by dropping his bark on them.  He’s so protective.  I ran out to halt the invasion and believe me they fought back.  Their roots look like big ole hairy rat tails.  Disgusting.  The Biscuit (my hibiscus) looked on in approval and rewarded me with a 6-inch-wide orange blossom.  I will continue my war with the evil dandelions until they are vanquished forever.

Life is like my garden and the people are the plants.  You can’t water them but you can send them good vibrations, protect them from the possums, and throw them some bullshit when needed.

SalGal