Not long ago, the backyard was a peaceful English garden filled with roses, hydrangeas and a restrained modicum of plaster fat winged babies...Then I blinked and somehow it turned into The Lost World.
I'm not precisely sure how it happened, but boy, it happened BIG. Vegetation had sprung up with stalks the diameter of soup cans. Vines like firehoses battled innocent rhododendrons. And Tarzan went swinging by with a yodel and a cheery wave.
"Yeah, hey, how's it hangin', jungle dude?"
So Sunday, I put on my pith helmet, loaded the boar rifle, grabbed a scythe and ventured out into the Back Four. It was better to have-at this before the neighbors started complaining. I mean, Tarzan's yells alone were likely keeping them up at night...
That man really projects.
Plants that looked like giant mutant strawberries-- only without, you know, the benefit of fruit-- had formed a united front in one area daring me to take them on.
In another area, towering prickly stalks had managed to nestle their way in between my true plants, in a sly effort at self-preservation. Once settled, they'd apparently spent time bullying the yard cherubs, punting one fat plaster God of Love to the side in a firm statement on lawn art.
To some it may have been fair dealings. To me, well, this meant war.
Down came the killer vines! Out went the mutant strawberries! "Timmmmmmm-berrrrr!!!" went the Giant Hogweed.
"Save the Rainforest" activists had lined up to protest, but after I showed them a map and assured them that we were actually in Western Pennsylvania and not along a tributary of the Amazon, they hung their heads in disappointment and shuffled along home.
After an hour or so, Tarzan was standing alongside me, blinking confusedly.
"Me just wondering... where vines go?" he queried.
"I'm afraid you're going to have to relcocate, pal," I told him. "You, the chimps and that lion of yours. You made a wrong turn somewhere."
The king of the jungle shook his head sadly. "Me totally bummed."
"Yeah, sorry," I said with a sympathetic shrug, and a pat of his muscular arm.
So this morning I put to the curb, in Hefty bags, Pennsylvania's first tropical rainforest. I mean, I know the chimps were pretty ticked off, but the lion is currently curled up on my front porch in the sun, tail flicking, paw curling contentedly.
I just hope he finds a new place to sun himself by the time the mailman comes. I'm expecting some stuff today.
Oh, and Tarzan? Well, you know, the thing is-- ol' Ralph of the Jungle may not be the brightest ape in the zoo but he does have a certain charm. So I set him up inside the house. He's in there right now testing the weight limit on my chandeliers, and enjoying a nice pitcher of mango iced tea.
As long as no one calls in a noise complaint about this mysterious yodeling, he should be just fine.
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