Saturday, April 28, 2012

Babies Eat Gerber, Cats Eat Gerbera

The other night, the old drawer pulls of my old bureau pulled my new knitted blouse.  They’ve attacked me before, but a new top is too much, so I determined to get new drawer pulls.  I went down to Home Depot last night after work, and searched the 100 or so styles to fit what I already had — that is, I was too lazy to drill a new hole and figure out how to fill the others, so I brought one old pull with me to ensure a fit with the drawers as they are presently drilled.

I found a favorite.  It was $27 a pop.  One drawer pull $27, and I needed ten.  Can you imagine?!  So I settled for something plain and rounded that wouldn’t rip my clothing or me as I squeeze through the space between my bed and bureau.  Now that I have ten new drawer pulls, I’ll have to take each drawer out.  That should mean I get rid of some clothing pushed to the back corners, as well.  Let’s hope.
Dashiell's astilbe in bloom

As I headed toward the cashier, my favorite flower caught my eye.  Broadly, my favorite flower is a daisy of most any sort.  Specifically my favorite flower is the Gerbera Daisy.  Daisies are happy.  Gerbera Daisies are overjoyed in vibrant colors.  Why would I buy a plant at a big box hardware store?  Who knows, but the salmon-colored petals called to me.  So I brought that home as well.  Once I got there, I discovered why I no longer bring home cut flowers.
Milo with his flowers and water bowl
 My old Milo loved to chomp on the greens that surround a bouquet of flowers.  He never ate the flowers themselves.  Not so Wilbur.  Not five minutes on my kitchen counter, and that plant had lost its petals to Wilbur.  I didn’t catch him chomping the flower, but I caught him jumping off the counter, where he clearly knows he doesn’t belong. 

Poor Gerbera.  I put it in the glass-fronted cabinet for safe-keeping overnight, and planted it this morning in the garden.  Where it will be safe.  I do hope it grows new petals.
The remains of the Gerbera

That Darn Cat.

~ Molly Matera, signing off.  I’ve planted, I’ve watered, now to bathe myself in the glory of a beautiful day staring at my growing garden. 


  1. I can't decide which tickles me most - your struggle with drawer pulls, the saga of diminishing daisy petals or this image of cat tails swishing in naughty delight....

  2. In defense of Wilbur, you witnessing him jump off the counter is curcumstantial evidence in a court of law and doesn't prove that he is the petal muncher. There are two other possible suspects to this crime.

    1. Technically true in human court, but I'd just bet if a dog were the judge, s/he'd rule against Wilbur or at least demand that he cough up the evidence. Which, I must admit, no one did.