Sunday, 25 August 2013
you say tomato...
Actually, my dad likes tomatoes and that's just weird 'cause you know... my dad is a cat.
You say po-tay-to. I say po-tah-to. Nah, I don't eat those, either. On the other paw, I might like them if you slathered 'em up with real, meltin' butter and sprinkled some fresh nip on 'em. Yum. I could go for some of those right now, in fact. Peepers, you have any potatoes on paw? Don't forget the butter, okay? Oh, and the nip, too!
Okay, let's try this one. You say wild flowers. I say, weeds! Now that's the ticket.
You guessed it. Ol' peepers has been up to her hijinks in the garden once again. What a peep.
Yesterday, peep #1 headed out into the garden. Okay, she headed out into a particularly weedy part of the garden. Please note the word, weedy. With her, she had a little plastic container. I asked myself, what is she up to this time? I had to ask. Curiosity got the best of me. I shouldn't have asked, though. I should have known better. Curiosity gets you nothin' but trouble and nowhere but first in line to the train that heads directly to Headache City. MOUSES!
I watched the peep while she was doin' this and doin' that around some queen anne's lace and then the goldenrod and finally, some white asters. I wasn't sure what she was doin' but it looked like trouble. Trouble with a capital T, if you know what I mean.
Then she headed over to where there are some grasses. Not grass like the fresh green stuff upon which I like to munch. This grass was tall and brown and had all gone to seed. I've been watchin' that grass, myself. I've been half expectin' to see some farmer drive into my yard with a big ol' tractor and start hayin' or something. Yeah, that's how bad that grass over by the compost pile, is. MOUSES!
Finally, the peep returned to the safety of the proper garden with the proper flowers that are not weeds. I peered into that container of hers and found that there were some seeds. Not a lot but there were a few. "You collectin' weed seeds now, peepers?" I asked. Of course, I was joking with the peep. No one in their right mind would be collectin' seeds of weeds, right? WRONG! That's exactly what she was doin'.
In fact, she was apparently sorry that she hadn't been able to collect even more of the things. Most of 'em aren't ready to be collected yet, she says.
Well for mousin' sakes, peepers. Chop 'em down before they get all over the place! Do I have to tell you how to do everything? MOUSES!
To the container of her weed seeds, she added some seeds from my garden. My proper garden. She found a whole bunch of seeds for matricaria, shasta daisies and heliopsis. Now, those are proper flowers, I thought. Why she was dumpin' them into the same container as the weeds though, was beyond me.
Eventually, she headed out into the front yard and went all the way down to the edge of the road. There's a ditch there that has some stuff growin' in it. Not a lot of stuff, mind you. Ol' peepers has planted a lot of things in there but, over time, a lot of those things have died. It's sort of a dismal attempt of the peep's to pretty up the ditch. Considering the fact that there's only a flower here and a flower there and not much else, it's not a very good attempt at beautification. In fact, I graded her once on it. She failed.
Next thing I knew, ol' peepers was flingin' seeds here and flingin' seeds there. She was flingin' seeds all over the place. She was like a mad woman, I tell you. She was crazy. Crazier than a squirrel makin' nut pies! Yes, there were some flower seeds in that mix but there were all those weed seeds, too. 'They're weeds!" I cried. "Weeds, I tell you. Don't spread about all the weeds! PEEPERS! WHAT ARE YOU DOIN'? Have you gone nuts or somethin'?"
Then the peep turned to me and said, "I'll add more of the goldenrod and queen anne's lace when they're ready."
I almost fainted. My jaw dropped and I stood there, staring at my peep, tryin' to keep my balance on all four of my paws. I think I ate a fly. Not bad, those flies. It was just little one.
The peep seems to think that all those weeds are wildflowers. I, Nerissa the cat, still believe them to be weeds. Like I said before... You say wildflowers. I say, weeds!
I also have some issues with her choice of colours. Heck of a lot of yellow and white stuff goin' on there, not to mention the browns of the grasses. What about red? What about blue? We need some red and blue flowers in that mix and hopefully, they will be flowers... proper flowers... and not weeds.
Anywho... I'm thinkin' I need to book the peep a first class ticket for the train that goes to Squirrel Town. I'm sure I've heard that there is one of those in Nova Scotia. Not many trains, though. Most of the trains disappeared with the dodo bird. Too bad, you know, 'cause trains are nice. Trains are neat. Trains are fun! And trains are sweet. Just last week I watched a show on television with ol' peepers 'bout a lady who vanished on a train. Eventually, they found her, though. Unlike the dodo bird and the Nova Scotian trains. MOUSES!