Yesterday, Al and I spent a good deal of time at Gerlach’s and Mason Farms looking for perennials for a park that has been adopted by some friends.  We’re helping them with their project.  We got some hoses, some bulbs, and some weed inhibitor.  Although we don’t usually like to use harsh chemicals, the park has been neglected for so long, and the weeds are so prevalent, that we knew we were going to have to use desperate measures.  We’re also donating quite a few perennials from our own well-established garden, to cut down on the cost of buying all new plants for the park.  And there are a few plants at the park that are worth saving… so we’ll just transplant them to a better area and let them spread. 

But the more interesting part of the day was before we’d even left our property.  As we were walking to Al’s car, I felt something “splat” on the inside of my left arm… the inside of my elbow area.  It felt like a huge bug had flown into my arm. 

I looked down at my arm.

Not a bug.

I was under a very large tree at the time.

It was bird poo.

I was went upon by a winged one.

From the size of the splotch, I’d say it was a rather sizeable creature.  I didn’t want to look up to see if I could spot him for fear he wasn’t quite done.

Al got a bottle of water out of his car and a towel that he had in the trunk.  He quickly rinsed all poop off my arm and dried it with a towel.  What a guy.

And then I remembered that being target practice for our feathered friends is supposedly good luck. 

I’ll buy that.  After all, it only seems fair.   

June 22nd, 2009 | Category: Consumerism, Gardening, Humor | Subscribe to comments | Leave a comment | Trackback URL