Friday, May 5, 2017

The Perennial Man

Ahh, nature, a perfect place to get a sprinkle of ants in your lemonade. Delish.

 Morning Readers,

I find it helpful to keep several running tallies in my life. For example...

Number of milkshakes purchased unnecessarily after 9pm: 350

Number of bobby pins bought and lost: 12,000

Number of creatures I'm trying to keep alive: 11

Some of those figures are more helpful than others. If I want to know why my pants ripped when I sat down, I reference number one on the list. However, if my query leans more towards why I can't see out my kitchen window, I hop right down to number three.

No, we didn't pick up any extra children, but, in addition to four kids, a giant Labrador, and a cat who spends his time yanking the weather stripping off my front door, the Kellermans have branched into botany, and are currently trying to nurture several different potted plants. The hilarity here is the fact I'm barely keeping the children alive, so why not bludgeon some plant life while we're at it?

Husband's taken to planting different things, and because I captain this ship on most hours, he's also trusted me to move them in and out of sunlight, without incinerating any particular one by accident. It's sweet how he trusts me. Especially because my level of finesse with human beings sounds like this:

Me: Go get your shoes on.
Kid: I have shoes on.
Me: Oh, did you need a sandwich?
Kid: You called me in here to help find the remote.
Me: I did?
Kid: Can I leave now?
Me: Sure, Fred.
Kid: I'm Lou.

Nevertheless, Spring called, and the Kellermans answered by sticking different seeds into pots, dousing them, and shoving all adoptees harshly at Mother Nature, while the sun peeks out and wonders what the hell we're doing. So far, success has been had in the area of peppers and pumpkins.

Several plants have been eased on up to Jesus.

Even with several deaths, Husband remains undaunted and has gained my admiration through his sheer persistence to coax tiny shoots out of the earth. It's endearing. But it's also started moving in questionable directions. His enthusiasm for nature is slowly tugging me into conversations like the one we had last night. I jogged down to the kitchen, where I found him, again, shoving more seeds into pots. "What are those?" I asked.

Husband placed the first tiny, terracotta pot under our running faucet and proudly pointed to an open box of seeds on the counter. "These? These are Venus Fly Traps."

Picking up the box and looked it over. "Interesting."

"Yeah, I though the kids would have a great time collecting flies and feeding them."

I nodded. "Finally, an answer to our fly surplus."

"It'll be great. These take six to eight weeks to sprout, but you see that dead fly over there?"

"Uh huh."

"If these were already full grown, that guy wouldn't even be a problem. Right now, he's just taking up space."

It was true. The fly had died several days before. Overcome by laziness, I'd decided to leave him on the white, semi-gloss window sill and name him Howard.

"Well, good luck. Don't let it become Little Shop of Horrors down here."

And then we laughed and laughed, until...

"It's a bird box."

Several days later found us back in the kitchen, staring out the picture window above the sink. I shook my head while we looked at the plastic box suction-cupped to the outside of the glass. "But it's full of worms."

Husband nodded enthusiastically. "Right. So you fill it up with meal worms, and then the birds just flock to your window. It's nature. Up close. Pretty awesome, huh?"

"But there are worms stuck to my window."

"But they're dried."

"But my window is full of worms."

"You'll love it."

"The women in Southern Living never have to deal with this."

So, yes, nature is in full swing over at the Kellerman house. As such, I've been forced to add a new tally to my mental list.

Number of times Husband is going to bring home another living thing that may or may not be a meal worm: Terrifying amount

Until Next Time, Readers!

And now that I've awkwardly made you my friend, come hang out with me on: