This remarkable yard art object was a wedding gift to my son and his new
wife. Needless to say, a lot of heart went into it, but ... well. Yeah.
And it's my own fault, I suppose, that I ended up with it. At dinner one
night, after an insane moment at Lowes that nearly resulted in buying a
solar powered gazing ball, I did say to my family, "There is something
about living in the country that makes you want to put crap in your
yard." My son found this hysterically funny.
And so it was that this monument to love was abandoned on my front doorstep like a box of stray kittens.
Now, I am an unabashed packrat. And I do find myself suddenly and
inexplicably attracted to the plastic gnome section of the garden
center. But even I draw the line somewhere. Specifically, right here.
To make my point, I added a minor touch of my own: Chenille balls, like
the kind found on your more amusing sombreros. The wedding reception
actually involved sombreros, so it seemed entirely appropriate:
The hubby, who does love a practical joke, smuggled the new and
improved version back into my son's house when they were out of town.
The son was amused but undaunted. The evening of Fathers Day, after
everyone had left, I heard my husband laughing and calling me to come
and enjoy the new view of the potting shed:
I rather enjoyed that one. The lights were on a timer, so they came on
only at night. Very festive. But it's still going back for the Fourth of