Decapitated Sunflower

We have a tiny backyard at our house, basically the size of a small desk.  But living in a borough, we take what we can get.  Since this is officially our fist summer, we are still getting used to the garden and planting.  DH has planted tomatoes, which have been great since now we have fresh tomatoes anytime we want.  The bad part, the whole thing looks like a freaking jungle of tomatoes, with strings and contraption of sticks to hold up the tomatoes.

Then we have also planted sunflowers.  We didn’t think anything would happen, but now we have about 8 sunflower stems at about 9 ft. tall each.  The heads are getting so heavy that they are starting to bend over.

Living in such close quarters with your neighbors has created new problems, that hither to we have not had.  Before it was the neighbor’s dogs would bark non stop, or the upstairs guy would walk too heavy footed.  But now, it’s neighbor’s cat shitting in our yard, and obnoxious neighbor is getting too curious about our business.  DH now is getting totally paranoid and thinks that the neighbors are messing with our yard.

FOR EXAMPLE (and this is a true story).

I come home last night, go in the back yard with O, and one of our sunflowers is decapitated. In the middle of the desk size yard, we have a carnage of sunflower…seeds and petals everywhere.  And I think, “Freaking cats!!!”  I look at the sunflower patch (are they called patches), and right in the middle of them, one sunflower is missing.  We say our goodbyes to the sunflower.  And go back inside (we are attacked by mosquitoes, so we have to limit our time outside to the bare minimum).  DH comes home, I tell him the sad story of the sunflower. His response, “It was the neighbor.  She was annoyed that one of our sunflowers was leaning on her side of the fence.”  “No, dear, it wasn’t that sunflower. It was in the middle of the patch, and the only way to get to it, is to jump the fence through the tiny area between the sunflower and the deck, over the out of control Morning Glory (without disturbing the morning glory along the fence), chop the sucker’s head off, and scatter it in the yard. I think it was the cats.”  “I don’t think so.”  Left it alone.

An hour later I go out in the yard to water the plants, and there in the middle of the sunflower carnage is a raccoon (not the largest I’ve seen. I would say, probably a teenager).  We both stop, stare at each other.  I scream, and he screams.  We stare a bit more.  I turn to run inside, he turns and runs in the neighbor’s yard, and scurries up the tree.  I give another scream. He gives another scream.  Then we part our ways.  I tell DH, it was the raccoon that decapitated our sunflower.   Still he doesn’t believe it.


About RidgewoodMom

Thirtysomething mom of a baby girl. First and only baby, possibly. First baby amongst my close friends. These are the trials, frustrations and lessons I have learned in raising a single child in New York.
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