Tim's parents pose as retired botanists who specialize in ferns. They hold an annual event at their home where they sell cuttings from their garden. People pay good money for these very special ferns and perennials. They call their event the "Fern Frenzy." However, despite their sweet demeanor and very generous offering of an SUV filled to the brim with plants and compost for our garden, they are secretly garden terrorists ready to commit plant Jihad on unsuspecting junior gardeners. They had planned a little "Fern Frenzy" on the two of us.
For 3 days they had us digging, planting, watering and hauling with no sympathy for our lower back pain, asthma, low heat tolerance, new garden boots that caused blisters and man boob sweat. Tim's dad didn't hesitate to walk over my body lying incapacitated in the mud with a soaker hose wrapped around my neck as he was determined to get a 40 foot shade garden installed behind the house. Tim's mother cracked the whip as Tim frantically cut raspberries, blackberries, strawberries, and blueberries into a red, white and blue cheesecake/fruit extravaganza for dessert. The frogs, tadpoles and surviving fish didn't know what hit them as Tim's parents swooped in to landscape the pond and kidnap a few dozen unsuspecting, pre-pubescent tadpoles to take back to their secret camp in Westchester. We had been ambushed.
Exhausted, Tim and I had been fooled by the sweet white hair and cute binoculars and charming bird guide books of our guests. They managed to out garden us and still had the energy to drink us under the table at dinner. Regardless of our inexperience and lack of stamina - it was a lovely weekend and we completely enjoyed having them. Next time we will be better prepared.
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