Mr. Green Jeans' Secret Weapon


Hello again. It is the Village Grandma here.

It was late in the evening as I was at my kitchen window pouring myself a cup of tea when I heard a pretty loud noise. So, with neighborly concern plus some suspicion about my garden nemesis (let’s just call him Mr. Green Jeans). I looked out only to see him dragging a box out of the trunk of his car.  Just to check and see if he might need some help, I got out my binoculars to see how heavy the box might be.

To my utter dismay I just happened to glance at the label only to find out that he had ordered a box of GNOME LEAVINGS for his flower garden which he was smuggling in under cover of darkness! 

Unbelievable right? Now, I have a real dilemma. Do I order a box for myself or wait and see how well they work? Decisions, decisions.

I’m a little concerned about Nellie. You know how teenagers are. I found her primping in front of the bathroom mirror the other day and I  think she may be trying to attract the attention of a scruffy brown bad boy from the wrong side of Grange Ave. (if you know what I mean).

She used to sleep in until two or three in the afternoon but now is up at the crack of midnight. Fortunately, Gump is less of a problem. This week the object of his affection seems to be a dust bunny he found under my bed. Keeps him occupied most of the day.

Now, before you get all judgmental about a little dust here and there in my house you might recall that I have only one hand with an opposable thumb ... PLUS this past week I found out via an MRI (Or, rolling casket, whichever you prefer) that one of my legs is not always interested in receiving input from my brain ... PLUS they found what appears to be a harmless but large balloon-like entity on one of my kidneys. I have deduced from this new information that I have less in common with an orangutan as I first suspected and am closer, in a genetic sort of way with Quasimodo.

Finally, the weather has cleared up a bit. I saw a few people walking about the Village taking in some of the ambience. People going to and from church or out to lunch. It might be a pleasant way to spend a little time finding out why  little Greendale has national significance ... and why it might be good for all of us to help keep it ORiGINAL. Maybe take a ride and view it with fresh eyes.

Possibly though for the time being you might want to scratch off Angle Lane from your route. It seems that the department of public works and mother nature have some sort of vendetta towards each other. For a while there it would have been more efficient for the water department  to set up a tent city on a few of the yards in the area rather than bring all their available equipment, fix the problem, remove all the equipment , take lunch break only to find that mother nature had created two or three more potholes in the meantime. The result of all this is a road with a wide variety of holes, ridges, bumps and tire traps that, although the residents can pretty well navigate, those who are unfamiliar  with the area are quite befuddled.

Having the perfect vantage point to watch the comings and goings I have found that UPS and Fed EX drivers have the least problems ... Sears and Steinhafels have definite troubles but when a Kohler truck driver got halfway down the Lane I could see that he had his hands over his eyes (possibly weeping ). The very best day is garbage pick-up day. Although all the trash is thrown into the back of the truck a good quarter of it just tumbles back out...Maybe some combat pay is in order

Disaster has struck! The front yard of Mr. G.J. next door has several yellow flowers blooming! All in perfect alignment and all the same height. All the while my hyacinths have reproduced willy-nilly in random order and show no signs of blooming. Something underhanded is afoot here. I wonder what would happen if someone tossed a bag of walnuts in with the yellow flowers what with the squirrels hungry after the harsh winter and all.

Not that anyone would stoop so low (not with a bad leg anyway).

‘til next time.

The Village Grandma