Wednesday, October 19, 2011
S.W.A.T. TEAM SWOOPS IN
Two were on their honkin' (humongous) riding lawn mowers, decked out in their uniforms of black stocking hats, bullet proof jackets and matching pants, ski gloves and FBI dark sunglasses. I'm sure the boots are steel-toed. They are an intimidating sight! It's enough to cause frightened young mothers to hide their children behind locked doors! The other three held their hand weapons with both fists as they slashed indiscriminately every blade of grass that waved over two inches in height. Uniform and neat is their slogan and marching song. Their goal is to see how much destruction they can cause in "record time."
This morning I watched the attack and if looks could harm, all of them would be wounded!
They were here last week too and my two year old, only had 1 baby, 10 leafed fig tree that I've been coddling through the long hot summer met it's end. I'm sure it didn't know what hit it as that monstrous machine sliced it right off at ground level.
Was it an accident or a planned attack? I'll never know. I'm sure no one will admit the dastardly deed and the only evidence I have is a tiny little stump sticking up out of the ground. Forensic evidence could only produce the angle of the cut of the blade. No motive would ever surface, I'm sure. I'm not up to a "David vs Goliath" confrontation!
It's only a small fig tree anyway, right?
No, it's an ongoing battle I seem to lose with man and his mowing machine! It's the principle of the thing!!!
It was actually Honeybuns that discovered the death of my fig tree, and he knew the fury, sadness and grief that he would encounter when he told me the news. He's witnessed that scene numerous over the years as he has slayed many a precious plant.
I'm pleased to say that he's since learned to slow it down a little when he boards our "Binford 2000." He is still practicing restraint with the weed eater and has yet to master that weapon of destruction. I have hopes there!
Since a law suit, arrest, protest or an old fashioned screaming hissy fit seem useless and inappropriate for this grown woman, I'm instead headed to the local nursery to seek out a replacement. (How many times must I repeat this scenario?)
I will never understand the need to "cut down" at random my prized horticultural experiments.
The aggression in the male species is hard to define! The fury welling up within ME is justifiable, don't you think?