The second I spied the Flower House online, I heard a faint whispering. It was calling my name.
The voice said to immediately buck up for the purchase. It said I desperately needed a little Bedouin know-how rigged out in plastic. It said I could thwart ruthless deer gang rule and provide a safe haven for victimized plantlife.
Tom, I feared, might be overcome with gleeful pride over my exceptional problem-solving skills. So, I didn't tell him about the Flower House until it arrived in an enormous cardboard box. As predicted, he was beside himself. Especially when I told him about my plan to erect the Flower House in the front yard, which faces south. Word up.
So far, it's all going according to plan. Just like my pop, I employ a square-foot gardening approach. Meaning it's a jungle in there and old pantyhose are an important structural element. Our neighbor Subhash drifted over yesterday. He inspected the Flower House and said my tomatos were twice as tall as his. That's what I'm talking about.
technorati tags: Flower House, Gardening, Deer, Compost