they're STILL sittin' there

Yesterday, the sun was a-shinin' and the air felt fairly mild.  Peep #1 decided to get some stuff done out in the garden.

Although I had work to do on my blog and this gardenin' business was gonna interfere with said work - on account of my havin' to supervise the peep while she was in the garden - I really did have to agree that the peep's plans were good ones. One never knows when snow might fly here in Nova Scotia and Ol' Peepers definitely had a lot of stuff out there to do before the white stuff's arrival.  For starters, there was a box of dutch iris bulbs sittin' in my office, waitin' to be planted.  Those needed to go into the ground, for sure.  Partly because they wouldn't bloom in the box but mainly 'cause where they were sittin', was in my way.  MOUSES!

So I relented and agreed to supervise the peep, outdoors, while she worked in the garden.  I pointed out the iris bulbs, remindin' her to get 'em planted.

The peep immediately headed into the garage.  I again pointed out the iris bulbs on account of her not takin' them with her.  "Yeah, yeah..." she said.  "I'll get to them when I get to them."

The insolence of some peeps.  MOUSES!

I figured that the peep must be on a spade and trowel retrieval mission in the garage.  I also figured that the spade and trowel must be in hiding as Peep #1 was takin' so long to find them.  There were also strange noises emanating from the garage.  A lot of grunting and whatnot.  Either the rare, never-seen-before East Coast Sasquatch had moved into the garage for the winter and was movin' furniture and whatnot about in there in an attempt to redecorate or the peep was searchin' for a trowel that didn't want to be found.  Both theories were equally plausible.

It turned out to be neither of those things.  Peep #1 was merely trying to get the lawnmower out. Let's just say, the garage is a little on the messy side, shall we?

I explained to the peep that the lawn mower was unnecessary for the plantin' of iris bulbs.  "Yeah, yeah...' she answered.  "I'll get to them when I get to them."  MOUSES!

So the peep pushed the lawnmower down to the end of the driveway and turned the key.  Nothin'. Nothin', nadda, nadingkenpoop.

No fear, though.  Just meant the battery was dead on the electric start.  Not a big deal, right?  Haul on the other arm-powered starter thingy and the lawnmower should come to life.  So the peep hauled on it.  AND SHE HAULED ON IT.  AND SHE HAULED ON IT!

Sput...  Sput...  Sput....  Ssspppphrrmmmphhhhtttdadda.  Dead.

Okay...  Check the gas, I told her.  She did.  There was gas in the mower but perhaps not enough. Ol' Peepers said she was reluctant to add more gas 'cause what she really wanted to do was use it all up so that the lawnmower would be empty over the winter.  She was gonna use up the gas, mowin' in the leaves that had fallen onto the lawn.

She hemmed and she hawed but finally decided to add more gas.  Decided to fill it right up.  Then she started haulin' on that ol' arm-powered starter thingy, once again, expectin' the lawn mower to come to life.

Sput...  Sput...  Sput...  Ssspppphrrmmmphhhhtttdadda.  MOUSES!

What to do?  WHAT TO DO?  Oil...  check.  Gas...  unfortunately, check.  Spark plug?  "Nissy, do you know where the spark plug is?" she asked.

"You nipped or somethin', Peepers?  I don't even know what a spark plug is," I answered.  And truth be told, neither does the peep.  She merely knows of its existence.  Nothin' more.

She turned the lawnmower over to see if there was somethin' amiss in its underbelly.  Nope.  Clean as a whistle it was.  Nothin' wrong down there. MOUSES!

Ol' Peepers muttered some stuff under her breath that I cannot in good conscience, repeat here, as Nerissa's Life is a family-friendly blog, before pushin' the lawnmower back into the garage.  I peeked inside the ol' garage, lookin' for the Sasquatch.  Seein' none, I reminded the peep about the iris bulbs sittin' in my office.

"Yeah, yeah...  I'll get to them when I get to them," she replied.

Again with the insolence.  MOUSES!

The peep went in search of a rake.  Once found, it was hauled out of the garage, albeit much more easily than the deadified lawnmower.  Ol' Peepers started rakin' the leaves on the lawn, pushin' and pullin' them, this way and that.  Mainly sending 'em flyin' towards certain trees.

If my description of the peep's raking sounds somewhat haphazard it's on account of the general state of haphazardness that I witnessed, watchin' her rake.  She didn't have a clue as to what she was doin'.

Eventually, the peep gave up on the rakin'.  I cried a cry of relief.  Finally the peep would get those iris bulbs planted.  I watched as she put away the rake, expecting her next move to be to get that box of bulbs.  Unfortunately, she was headin' in the wrong direction.  MOUSES!

Instead of going back into my office to retrieve the bulbs that have been in my way for weeks, she headed over to the bags of leaves sittin' on the driveway.  Then she started dragging said bags of leaves onto the front lawn, tearin' them open and dumping their contents onto the grass.

"YOU'RE DOIN' IT ALL BACKWARDS!" I hollered.

The peep, bein' a peep, ignored me.  MOUSES!

She dumped bag after bag after bag of leaves under the big linden tree.  Then the smaller one. Then the two maples and there was even a bag dumped next to one of the new little crab apples.

I honestly have no idea how many bags of leaves the peep dumped out.  More than twenty. Perhaps thirty.  Might even have been forty.  At some point I stopped countin' and began to quietly sob into my paws.  Clearly, the peep had been into some bad nip and lost all control of her actions. Either that or she had signed up for that crazy pie bakin' course bein' offered by the squirrels.  Crazy that is.  Crazier than a squirrel makin' nut pies kind of crazy, for sure.  MOUSES!

Ol' Peepers was flatly refusin' to take any direction from me.  She was ignorin' my supervision.  She was bein' a peep.  Once more I must say, MOUSES!

After sobbin' my kitty heart out, I looked over at the peep.  There did appear to be some sort of pattern to her dumping of the leaves.  They had been dumped in such a manner that they were encircling certain trees.  I wondered if perhaps there had been method to her madness.  I wondered briefly.  Nah, just madness, I realised.  Nothin' but crazy ol' nut-pie bakin' madness.

The sun was settin'...  Who am I kiddin'?  The sun had set!  Ol' Peepers gathered up the now empty bags from the leaves, bringing 'em over to the garage.  I reminded her about plantin' the iris bulbs that had been in my way, in my office, for weeks.

"Nissy, it's too dark to be planting bulbs.  I'll plant them on the weekend, okay?"

I glanced, forlornly, toward the house, knowing that inside, in my office, there was a box of iris bulbs, still waitin' to be planted. I looked over at the peep.  I glared at the peep.  I sputtered, "But..."

She ignored me.  What a peep.

And as I do my final edits on today's blog post, I glance over at where the iris bulbs have sat for weeks.  For weeks upon weeks upon weeks.  And do you know what?  They're STILL sittin' there.  MOUSES!