Mom, Walmart, and a Mallard Hen

I went down to Gurnee today to take my mom out to lunch. To say Mom’s always a little “out to lunch” is an understatement, but when you’re over 80, you cease to be labeled “whacky,” and are mostly referred to as eccentric. Mom’s been eccentric all her life, and proud of it.

After lunch, we went over to Wal-Mart for bottled water. We ended up in the garden department-a logical progression, right? It is supposed to be 33 degrees out tonight, so Mom thought it was a good time to buy tomatoes (“fewer crowds,” she said). Well, she was right about that, because everyone else was shopping in their winter jackets today, and no one was shopping for plants.

We were strolling through the vegetables when I heard rustling behind me. Knowing we were alone I glanced back to see what caused the noise. My eyes caught movement among the Dusty Miller. Right in the middle of four flats of Dusty Miller was a Mallard hen sitting on eggs. She built her nest right on the top shelf of annuals in Wal-Mart Garden Center.

Of course I did not have my phone on me, or you would see a picture of Mamma Mallard. I want to go back tomorrow to take a picture. The employees set up pylons around the area, and strung up “Do Not Cross This Line” tape, but I figure it’s only a matter of time before some idiot disturbs her.

Mom and I watched her for a bit, and Mom talked to her as well. The hen lifted her head at one point and looked at my mom, then went back to hiding her bill in her feathers. We then went on to do other things, but we kept coming back to the subject of the Mallard hen in Wal-Mart. It really made Mom’s day (that, and Red Lobster).

On the drive home I thought about how whacky that hen was to nest in the middle of Wal-Mart, but it goes to show us how mother hen dealt with the loss of her habitat in suburbia. And I guess when Mom talked to the hen, she might have looked like a whacky old lady talking to a duck, but I view it as one eccentric mom chatting with another eccentric mom, on Mother’s Day.

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom. I hope we can share many more.

Death of a Garden Hoe

I am very excited Death of a Garden Hoe is available in paperback as well as eBook. Garden Hoe was my first experience writing YA. I loved it! Originally written for reluctant reader teens, I was surprised at the positive adult reader feedback I got. The more I spoke with readers, the more I learned many people young and old like the YA format better than mainstream fiction. Available in a six-eBook episodic format, or the new all-in-one-paperback version, Garden Hoe has a little murder, a little self-reflection, a little gardening, and like everything that comes off my fingertips, humor.

What Garden Hoe doesn’t have are vampires, werewolves, shape shifters or aliens. What it does have are five street kids working off community service hours at the Olive Branch Garden Center, and around town. They literally stumble across a murdered prostitute, and need to find out “who dun it.”

They’re pretty sure the rich guy did it, but for Shroom, Cash, Spaz, Pone, and Bean, it’s hard to investigate a murder when the cops don’t like you, society doesn’t like you, the rich guy doesn’t like you, and you don’t even like yourself, let alone the morons you have to work with!

So how is a rich boy who wears $600.00 sunglasses but never paid a traffic ticket (Cash), a Hispanic/Swede attitudinal ex-gang banger (Shroom), a young girl forced into prostitution and has more issues than you could imagine (Spaz), a video game fanatic/car thief, whose dad is a cop, and an idiot who got drunk and fell through a skylight (Bean) going to find a murderer without killing each other first?

They don’t know either, and it sure ain’t easy when the cops don’t like you, society doesn’t like you, the rich guy doesn’t like you, and you don’t even like yourself much. But investigate they will, and if they can’t find a way to do it inside the law, they will just have to go outside the law, and look out bad guys!

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Is it Spring Yet?

Winter is a long cold wait until Spring in Wisconsin. Everything goes dormant-including the people.  Oh sure, there’s some who brave the cold. We have the Polar Plunge-where everyone with a lot of guts and bent on raising money for Special Olympics go jump in the lake…literally! Check them out at:
https://www.specialolympicswisconsin.org/polar_plunge.asp

We also have many visitors from out-of-state visiting to enjoy the winter wonderland that is Wisconsin. From skiing, and snowmobiling to tubing and horse-drawn sleighs, winter in Wisconsin is a delight to those who enjoy the outdoors.

If you’re a hot-house lily, there are indoor water parks and weekend getaway places to snuggle in front of a fireplace and sip hot toddies to your heart’s content. You can find out more about winter fun in Wisconsin by looking at:
http://www.travelwisconsin.com/

Most of us just hunker down until spring.  Parkas become formal wear and long johns are like “American Express.”  We don’t leave home without them!

Up here, to talk about the weather from November until March is to count the days until the spring thaw.

“Hey Fred, cold enough for you?”

“Yup, got icicles hangin’ from my nose, but at least it’s one day closer to spring!”

“That’s for sure. Great Packer weather, though. Well, see ya ’round, ‘m friend.”

“You betcha, Joe, stay warm now.”

“Yah hey-see you in May!”

…..ahhh, winter in Wisconsin….is it spring yet?  Feb2, 2011 076

I Love Fall

My House, Fall, 2012

There’s no doubt fall is my favorite time of year. After the devastatingly hot summer, I didn’t think I’d have anything left to take a picture of! Purple, pink and white dominate the fall color scheme this year.

I guess when I consider the lawn didn’t need much mowing, and the fly and mosquito population was down, the summer wasn’t a total bust. Then I look at my electric bill, the price of gas, the water I used…sheesh! Maybe I’ll move to Florida.

I am doing more and more container gardening every year. I dragged my mother to Home Depot this past spring, and she had a great time picking out tomatoes, bell peppers,and a cucumber. She also grabbed some small dahlias to plant as well. I got her some big containers, and you should see what she did! I’ll try to remember to post a picture, but let me tell you, she had a bountiful harvest.

Coleus

My coleus did very well this year. Both Shan and Bob had one as well. Most days I watered in the morning and evening.

I hung a little hayrack planter with two types of coleus off the front porch. I don’t know if you can make out the beautiful Datura in the background

 

The story behind this little beauty is my brother-in-law, JR, who can grow anything, had this original plant. His Datura got so huge, he divided it and gave me a chunk. I put it in a pot and I take him inside in the winter. This summer it was a real challenge keeping it watered, but look at the beautiful blooms it rewarded me with!

Ball Dahlia

My dahlias’  bloom time coincided with Japanese Beetle time this year, so they were mostly a waste.Those that did come in were lovely.

Let me know how your garden grew this year!

People’s Choice

Greetings Everyone!

Have you ever worked really hard on something, and had someone criticize it out of hand?  I don’t mean to politely and constructively tell you what could be improved upon, but to just rip on your masterpiece?  I think that every piece which has had hours of blood, sweat, and tears put into it should at least be lauded for the hard work it took to complete, and the courage it took to present it to the public.

Do these same critics tell their friends their new baby looks like horse-faced Frankenstein? I should hope not! So why do people feel it is their right–nay, their DUTY–to forget what they find positive and attack with just the negative?

You’re probably thinking I’m talking about my written words. If I was that sensitive about my books, I’d have quit a long time ago. Even people who do not review books are going to review you and your books. And guess what? Not everyone is going to like you, so get used to it. Listen to them as well-they might have a point.

Nope, I’m talking about my flowers. I love my flowers-especially my containers. I plant them, I water them, I talk to them, I feed them, I sing to them, and I think they look pretty good. They reward me with being beautiful, and together we compete at the county fairs and they get their chance to look beautiful for the public all week.

I do pretty well with them too. Except this year’s special entry. The rules wanted a flower to be “in bloom” at the time of the fair. I started several types of coleus from leaf and stem cuttings. I was so proud of them, but only one was in bloom for the fair. I wasn’t going to enter, but Bob brought it in anyway.

My beautiful coleus plants brought an onslaught of not-too-nice comments and criticism from a couple people who should probably not let their true feelings show before the fair entries are judged. Come to think about it, they probably should not have said anything at all. As it was, my entry did not even place.

So, okay-win some, lose some. When Bob, Shan, and I arrived Sunday night to pick up my entries, however, I was in for a huge surprise! I heard Shan call out, “Hey Mom, look at this.”

I walked over and Bob said, “Well, I’ll be darned, the People have spoken.”

I looked down and there on the table was a ribbon and a sign which read, “People’s Choice.”

All week long during the fair, people are allowed to vote on their favorite, and my criticized coleus won the coolest award of the fair entries!

So I just wanted to thank everyone who voted for my coleus, and for those who ripped on it earlier, thanks to you as well-it just made winning that much sweeter.

Summer Has Arrived

Memorial Day Weekend

This Memorial Day weekend Bob and I had a couple of days off; a rarity in our business. Bob stayed home to take care of his “honey-do” list, and I headed south to a State which shall remain nameless(as we all know, friends don’t let friends drive to Illinois).

After taking Mom to her doctor early this morning, she had the bright idea to go to Home Depot.

“Great,” I said, “We can pick out a tomato plant for you.”

Mom mumbled something I didn’t catch, and if I have learned anything in the 50 plus years I’ve known her, I really should have been very afraid.

Well, I pulled into Home Depot in Gurnee, and made the observation that the parking lot looked a lot like it does on Black Friday.

Mom smiled. “It’ll be fine, Look, there’s an opening on the other side of the store. We’ll park over there and walk.”

“Over there” happened to be about a quarter-mile away, but so what? It was early, and Home Depot had an entire section of parking lot blocked off with plants and mulch. I got Mom in the wheelchair and we headed out. I realized later I should have taken a backpack and a bottle of water with me, because between dodging traffic and garden center flatbeds, we were lucky to make it to the store with our lives…and during store hours!

I was thinking about a cart, but when we went through the doors there were only five carts to be had.

“We don’t really need a cart, do we Mom? After all, we’re just grabbing one silly little tomato, right?”

So bent  was I on weaving through the throng of people, I did not notice her set jaw and furrowed brow-definite signs Mom had other ideas. It would have at least given me a heads up that I was headed for trouble. We snagged a cart on the way in, but I figured Mom was just being prepared.

We made it to the garden center relatively unscathed, but came to a stand-still right at the entrance. A wall of people stood between Mom and her tomato, and we were not moving. From that point, I was just following in her wake. I apologized to the lady with the scraped Achilles tendon, and jumped out of the way of the guy who bounced off the left wheel of the wheelchair, and I suddenly found myself in the tomato aisle, looking for the perfect Roma. The aisle only had three people in it and I knew it would be smooth sailing from then on.

Uh, except there was a little mishap with a particularly rude gentleman. At one point, I turned to Mom to ask how she liked a particular plant, only to find her burried in the armpit of a guy who leaned so far over the arm of her chair,  he fell right into the Sweet 100′s. I started down the aisle only to watch him go behind the wheelchair and knee the back, which sent Mom rolling toward me.

As she was holding a plant in each hand, she couldn’t get to the wheels, and the rude guy lost interest in the plants he wanted so badly, and walked the other way! A Good Samaratin snagged Mom before she clipped anyone or took out the heirlooms, and a great employee named Danny showed up and saved the day.

Danny blazed a trail down the center aisle, and under Mom’s direction, pulled a flatbed out from under a table. I trailed behind, carrying my lone Roma, while Danny and Mom filled the flatbed with potting soil, peat, three more tomatoes, a cuke, fertilizer, three peppers, two large containers, and a bag of dahlias.

Danny was such a good guy, he even helped load everything into my car! The not so great part was unloading it all when we got back to Moms, but I persevered. We potted it all up, ran other errands and ten hours after I started my day, I was on my way home. About half way home, I had a great feeling of accomplishment wash over me…..that is, until I got to 173 and Deep Lake Road

It seema a very large snapping turtle decided the swamp was sweeter on the other side of the road, and was slowly making his way across the north bound lane of traffic. I swerved around him and nervously waited at the stop light, hoping the guy behind me missed the snapper as well.

I got through the light, made a U-turn in the Wal-Mart parking lot and sped back through the light, pulling off the road. I scrounged around in the back of my car, and realized I had nothing to herd Mr. Snapper back to his own swamp. I grabbed the only thing close to a shield, and blessed Danny from Home Depot once again, because I had the cardboard box from the all Mom’s plants in the back. I grabbed it and headed for the snapper, who was in a stand off with a young man in a “95 Will Rock” van.

The turtle must have known I was the enemy, because he spun around, hissed open-mouthed, and attacked my plant box with a vengeance. He did not want to go home, but I was determined he was not going to be turtle soup this afternoon.

Well, he went, but he was not happy.

I finally got home and what do I find? A crumpled honey-do list and no Bob…..seems Bob took the “day off” thing seriously. He took a looong nap, then went down to the local gun shop to jackpot with the owner and a couple other guys. Right now it’s after midnight and I’m still writing. And Bob? He was tired and went to bed about an hour ago. Poor guy, he had a full day!

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