when my mom was living she HATED cats. when they came into the yard she would hurl potatoes at them, in hopes to chase them away never to return. my brother and i were then expected to go retrieved them. i wonder how many were left only to sprout and grow? i wonder if people in that neighborhood question one another, "isn't it weird how potatoes grow randomly between our yards?"
the other night while chopping sweet potatoes, my husband and his grill master skills in the twilight on the deck, he opened the sliding door and popped his head through, "theirs a bunny in your garden."
"are you sure?" i ask. we've lived here for a little over a year and i've never seen one bunny or squirle - ever! cats on the other hand? well we've tried to make friends with them but they're not interested in us, yet. shshshshshs, don't tell my husband :)
"yep, a big one" he replied.
"no way!!!" i set down my knife and head for the door.
ears perked high, he looked more like a chocolate Easter bunny on steroids in the dusk. propped at the edge of beans and broccoli i squinted, wondering if this was a trick of my husbands. "is it real?" i ask.
"yeah. big hugh?"
i started up the hill. hearing again the voice of my cousin and aunt tell me of their eminent destruction inside my head, i start flailing. arms wild over my head, hands flapping, "SHEW! GIT GOIN'!"
he didn't budge.
i reached the top of the first little hill on our slopped property and i realize this bunny is brave. i'm sure he's heard tale of neighbor farmers with guns perched and waiting. this bunny just may be laughing at me.
'oh. no. you. dont' i think as my flailing gets more wild and my threats become louder, echoing down the valley a little. "GET!!! NOT IN MY GARDEN YOU WON'T FEAST!!! SHEW!!!" my head now shaking crazy and my feet kicking forward, he finally turns and makes a belingn threw the meadow and down the hill.
standing at gardens edge i squint threw oncoming night to see if he got a taste. instead i realise what a show i just put on for all the quite farmers and their families swimming in the pound at the foot of our hill. i turn back toward the house, shaking my head a laughing. my husband, standing on the deck, another witness of my crazy display i say, "i should have just thrown the potato."