Saturday, April 30, 2005
Why did I poison the dandelions?
If I took a picture of the border between my lawn and my next-door neighbor I wouldn't need to type this.
My lawn is litterered with dandelions. Hundreds of them.
His lawn has not one. He has no clover, no crabgrass, no nothing. Just bright green thin-leafed grass.
Me? I got it all, a regular jungle.
He's been in the house a couple of years while we just moved in so I have a bit of an excuse. Still, I have great lawn envy.
So, while Mary and Lucy were in New York, I put down the weed and feed - twice. Plus, I wandered through the yard with the broad-leaf weed killer gun shooting poison on every yellow head I saw.
When I got home from work the other day,Mary had rearranged the table on the back deck and I noticed a jar on the table filled with some rather sad looking dandelions.
Lucy was in the yard picking more.
cy," I said, "I wouldn't pick those. Daddy poisoned them."
"Why did you poison the flowers daddy?"
"They're weeds, not flowers."
"What's a weed?"
"It's a plant you don't want."
"I like these flowers."
I am a monster.