Time to tend to my garden by Foley Monster

Finally my minions have melted the ice rink, most of the water has run off, and we even have some grass shoots coming up.  I do apologize for the long winter (and especially to Enzo. There is still lots of snow on Enzo mountain due to a leaky ice machine.  It was my first winter at the Bridge and I learned a late season hockey tournament was a bad idea.  I am going to make up for it with lots of heat lamps to help my garden grow here.  Lots and lots of heat lamps

Not only do I have to worry about the gardens I am planting up here (I am going to be doing lots of watering once I have planted my seeds so those of you who live along coastal areas or waterways I am issuing a flash flood warning until the beginning of June.  If this had been an actual emergency I would have appeared in your dreams and barked:  “Head for the hills!)

But  the Bridge garden is not the only one that I am concerned with.  I have to start planning my earthly gardens for the spring.  I have visited Mommy in her dreams and she is already buying flowers for my garden to make is look beautiful.  

Next to my garden was the wheelbarrow garden.  At the end of last season the wheelbarrow, which, against my advice, was bought on the cheap at Walgreens, predictably fell apart.  Mommy has money set aside for another cheap wheelbarrow, but in the interim Grampy passed, and Daddy took the St Anthony statue (he is the patron saint of lost things and no one loses more things than my forgetful parents) from his garden and put it in the wheelbarrow garden, which I do hope is going to be named he St Anthony garden because if you cross over the Bridge and on your questionnaire you state that you had a St Anthony statue in your garden but still named the garden after a cheap wheelbarrow you will be going to hell.

Mommy has told Daddy that they won’t be spending as much money on the gardens this year because of the number of perennials she planted.  HAH!  Mommy said the same thing about Christmas gifts for the grandchildren and his credit card still shows bruises.  My parents constant gardening produced multiple trash bags filled with landfill, weeds and grass, so much so that the management company is limiting the amount of trash bags residents can put out.  Although their gardens are much admired Mommy and Daddy aren’t the most popular duo in the Village of the Pruned.

They have already dipped into the kibble account to buy a rain barrel, something that would not have happened if I had any need for kibble.  They collect the rain from the roof and keep it in the barrel and then use it to water the yard where the rain would have gone anyway.  I swear the whole household has gone to hell since I departed.

But most importantly I want my garden, Foley’s garden, to be tended to properly.  The first step is to send a message to my sisters:  STOP PEEING IN MY GARDEN.  I mean it.  My buds are blooming, my crocuses are up, and while I didn’t mind when my flowers are dormant I don’t want your water waste amongst my blooms.

Once my sisters control their kidneys my flowers can begin to bloom and a little bit of my soul will be alive just outside my parents window.  

And they are on strict order not to let anyone pee in it.