Flowers Are Like A Snack Bar

Today would have been my Uncle Joe's 95th birthday. He was a great gardener, and I think he had a lot to do with me messing with plants. On one of his visits he brought flowers...and bags of soil and huge planters. After that year, and Nan's wicked case of poison ivy, I started taking care of the yard myself instead of relying on anyone else, and the stuff that grows there now is nice.

So nice that a huge orange spider with striped legs loves to hang from this particular Rose of Sharon, which is about a foot away from my swing, every night. Except last night, when the spider decided to make its web ON my swing frame.

I can't get a decent photo of the spider. I'm sure you're all very sad about that.

Me, I was just sad I couldn't sit on my swing without running the risk of reenacting the end of The Two Towers or beginning of Return Of The King depending on which horrifying spider-on-Hobbit action you prefer.

Flowers Are Like A Snack Bar