How DID Your Testicles Get Inside Your Chest Cavity?

In some parts of the country the sweet perfume of early bulbs mingling with the aroma of earthy new grass encourages dreams of Spring. I have been anxious for Spring since last July. A normal year here finds suffocating heat in August that leaches the life out of everything, so naturally, when I feel it looming just the other side of tomorrow, I begin morning the loss of today before it's even gone. Like Saturday evenings were cause for a deep funk because I only had one day before returning to my hell, the evening shift at a particle board furniture factory where we pumped out high quality American crap by the thousands.

I already have narcissus shining brightly on the tips of low lime green stalks. For some reason, only one lone crocus broke through the straw mulch. I'm thinking those moles have been burrowing under my garden again. I know moles don't actually eat the roots of my flowers, but I also know that if they can uproot it, chew through it, or create a sink hole underneath it, they will. Going around the obstruction is not an option. I guess with a brain the size of a dirt granule and no eyes, that would make sense. Other years they have done in other bulbous beauties such as dainty Dutch iris, hyacinth, freesia, and practically anything else with a bulb. Mostly, they just vanish. I've tried digging around looking for them. What I discovered was a massive underground network of tunnels. It is always changing and I have had no luck with any method of de-mole-ing my garden. It seems the only deterrent is the resident pygmy lion pride. They find particular fun in digging up the larcenist little culprits and playing rugby with their little heads after a good row in the catnip. I guess even cats need to vent.

I've been watching the early bloomers preparing for their debuts. I've already had several opportune days in the garden. This morning as I gazed out the kitchen window over a strong cup of coffee, the sunshine and the growing expanse of green enticed me. I chugged down the road tar and threw on some sweats for a little pre-bloom grooming of my cherished speck of land. I wasn't greeted at the back door by Merlin or his finicky friends as per usual. So I stopped and took a deep breath before stepping off the porch. I quickly expelled the icy numbing, and very visible breath right back out...quickly, and turned tail and run back inside.

John came parading through in his skivvies, "You're out early.Get any gardening done?"

Me: Yep... it's nice out.

I knew he would step outside in nothing but his briefs. If he could get away with it, the man would never wear clothes, ever. Women would be putting their own eyes out just to be spared the horror. I just wanted to see how he planned on fishing his receded testicles out of his chest cavity.
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2/23/2005 11:10 PM