Bick is in a cage-fight/death match with the birds over the heirloom tomatoes. Last week I was sent on a mission to find a hand-painted, bobble-headed owl to watch over his prizes. The birds around here are picky SOBs - they will leave the metric butt-ton of Roma tomatoes alone while feasting only on the more scarce heirloom brandywines. Drives Bick flat crazy.
We have a pretty good division of labor here at Hillbilly Haven when it comes to the gardening activities - I do the buying and the planting and the weeding and the occasional fertility dance, plus any preserving that takes place. Bick does the watering and the harvesting. By this time of year, I'm rarely in the garden, except to give the squash a *&S^-job. (I cannot believe I said that).
Now Bick is out of town. I was given strict instructions on when/how much, blah blah blah on taking care of the garden and I only listened half-heartedly. So last night I'm out there watering and pruning and trimming and generally being Mary, Mary Quite Contrary when I spotted a SNAKE. A SNAKE. IN MY GARDEN. A SNAKE. I just about peed my pants and nearly tripped over the hose, running and screaming to get away from the garden.
That Rat-Bastard Bick had booby-trapped the garden with rubber snakes! I damned near had a heart attack - or caused the neighbors' to have one with all my carrying on. Had to laugh when it was over, but I still might do Bick bodily harm for not warning me.
Got in some miles at the gym this morning and I'm heading off to the store. Pebbles is coming over for dinner tonight. I'm looking forward to that. Bick may or may not be home - depends upon how much small-talk he can stand at the family.
Take good care of yourself. Be kind to others. Beware of snakes in the grass.