Sleeping with an open window really helps bring the garden inside. (Aside from the dust that blows in) I awaken every morning to the sound of birds singing in the garden. This helps me get up a few minutes early to have a little time to see how the...

Paul

much the garden gnomes have gotten accomplished during the night. Most nights that aren't cloudy, they manage to deadhead all of the gardens and generally keep things tidy. I had a few problems with them when they first showed up and they tried weeding on a dark and stormy night - next thing I knew they had pulled every one of the

dandelions from my neighbors yard, and blown all the fuzzy little seeds around in my grass. I wasn't sure which to do first... run the mower with a bag attached to try and vacuum up the seeds, or chase the garden gnomes out of my yard! After a few laps around the lawn followed by my shovel and me, they finally got the idea that ADDING weeds was not quite what we were going for. Thus began a long season of training for them, mostly consisting of

little seedlings I had hidden behind the hollyhocks. Is nothing sacred? I was really looking forward to their harvest in the Fall. In the meantime I have been extremely busy working on my next book which is tentatively titled "How To Grow A Cash Crop In The Trunk Of An Abandoned Car." Of course this cash crop will be grown organically using organic seeds, Integrated Pest Management and compost made in the crisper drawer of the refrigerator. OH MY GOD, I left the window open too long and the kudzu is.....

being eaten by a robin, a big sucker, big and round, sitting on the window sill munching. Then another one flew straight in the window dragging the weed in his beak, this one was bigger and rounder than the first. Surely there can not be more than two of these enormous birds, I thought/hoped/prayed. I cut my way through the ever growing kudzu and made it to the window preparing to jump. I looked down. My head swirled. I caught my breath. I gasped. I could not believe my eyes. I was amazed (but you get the picture) What I saw laying on the ground spindly legs straight up in the air was round robin......

Yes the robin was dead but the question is, who killed round robin? About that time I heard the sound of a helicopter only it wasn't a helicopter it was a huge hummingbird. I looks like I was having amazing results from putting vitamins and steroids in my hummingbird feeder. I must come up with a name for this new bird.

And then that strange feeling of deja vu struck - hadn't I done this before? Hadn't I named this huge Hummer? Was that just a few days ago, or was it in another life? As these thoughts plagued my brain, I headed to the basement to find the bright yellow spray paint. I knew I needed it, but could not remember why. As I rummaged through the half-used cans, I stubbed my toe on something. "Now what...?" I muttered, as I looked down and spotted...

Spots of yellow paint forming on the wall as the can rolled and tumbled just as it had when I kicked the purple paint only yesterday and left garish spots on the wall. Too much was happening at once - the spots reminded me of the dog I had loved and lost - if only I hadn't washed him with "Spot" remover.... now that doggone dog is gone. But sometimes late at night I lie in bed and hear him calling me out to the roof (roof, roof, roof)

These times are always ruff, because of course, the dog days of August have arrived. I started to chew on that bone, but then something happened to snap me out of the doldrums. I heard the sound of giant wings flapping over the house, and a buzzing sound that grew louder and louder. The buzzing was everywhere; you could not escape it - it felt as if it were even inside my head. A scream escaped from my strangled throat but suddenly halted as an even greater terror gripped my very soul. That buzzing sound - it was in the key of F, and we all know that female mosquitos buzz in the key of F. This could only mean. . .

That something was going on with the mosquitoes. I looked out the window and there I saw it on the tree (bark, bark) it looked rough (ruff, ruff) then I could make out that it was a mass of female mosquitoes amassed on the bark of the Beech tree. My dog was in the hollow at the bottom of the tree afraid to come out. The mosquitoes were humming in F but some were in F sharp, some in F flat, f minor, F augmented with a flatted fifth - It was the kind of sound one migh expect to hear if they were in a room with pink walls - padded walls at that. A pleasant sound really and relaxing if you didn't mind being strapped down. I thought about the tiny sapling at the foot of the majestic beech - could it be a son of a beech?

Or the daughter of a boxwood? Ah, boxwood, the memory of it takes me back to my childhood. One of the beautiful smells of early summer, the piquantly-bitter boxwood, mingled with the sweet smell of locust blooms, the aroma of new-mown hay, the earthy odor of cow manure in the pasture, altogether as one, etched in my mind, never to be forgotten.
I see my Aunt Merrie waiting at the screen door to the kithchen, my Uncle Edward coming up the path from the stable
with milk buckets in each hand, my dog Spot...

romping merrily through the cow pies, and then I hear my mother screeching, "You'd better wash that dog before he gets back in my car!" I remember how I reached into my pocket, pulled out a 10-spot and slapped it down in front of my mother. "Run him through the carwash, mother dearest. I'm off to make my fortune in wire hanger manufacturing." And I stormed on off down the road, at the tender age of

sixteen, with no idea that there were things in the world like lyme disease and deformed petals and mosquitos that would eat steroids just because they are soaked in red sugar water but then a gnome led me down a primrose path to

a moonlit grotto, where puppy-sized mosquitos sipped like vampires from Koolaid-filled martini glasses. Two factions sat devided. The largest of the two mingled together around the kiddy pool, stopping occasionally to take a dip. The second hummed seriously around a small blue egg. The gnome led me gravely to the hummers.