October 1, 2007
Greetings from Tiny Town! As you no doubt know, I’m Penelope Puppy and the world revolves around meeeeeeee. I have hijacked Miss Maybelline’s ongoing garden tour; since the world revolves around meeeeeeee, I can do whatever I want to. Like TMZ, I have hot news — the human beans are running away from home! It’s true. I have heard much whispering this week about a “road trip.” This is fine with me, since I own everything as far as the eye can see: the big doghouse which the beans foolishly call their home, the medium-sized garage doghouse, and the potting shed doghouse, parts of which you’ve already seen in the garden tour. Mine, all mine. Every blade of bright green grass and all the toys as well. Now I can rule in peace. No more pretending to please beans. This is my secret window on the world, made for me when there was much grumbling about “good fences make good neighbors” and a privacy fence went up. The old bean next door missed me. I go visit him every morning. When he thinks the pajamadeen bean isn’t looking, he slips me a treat or two.
Speaking of the garden tour, here is what’s known as a “hummingbird vine.” Eggheads call it Ipomoea quamoclit. I’m not making that up. It started out slowly. And then it grew. A lot. I heard a bean say that it was at least 10 feet wide and 6 feet tall. If you squint, you can see my window down along the bottom of the fence. (I don’t need a very tall window. As they say, good things come in small packages. I’m an imposing 14 inches tall and weigh about 15 pounds.)
Hummingbirds love this plant. In between the two hummingbird feeders and the hummingbird vine, there were at least 50 hummingbirds in my yard at all times. When they weren’t eating, they would wait, hidden on large flat sunflower leaves, to attack other hummingbirds who might try to use a feeder. At nighttime, they slept in the hummingbird vine. I didn’t want renters or squatters, but I couldn’t catch any of them, despite my best efforts.
The hummingbirds liked to sip nectar out of these flowers. The nights are getting cooler, though, and yesterday there were no hummingbirds and only a few today. The bean says these vines will re-seed next year. As long as they don’t crawl into my window on the world, I can deal with it. I’m really excited about the beans leaving. No more black plastic box with tiny people inside it, talking about Orange Juice Simpson. The beans get really upset with the black plastic box sometimes, such as the day that the Great White Bean, GWB, announced: “Mandela’s dead.” The Great White Bean lives in a white house. I live in a stone house.
While laying on the floor and guarding my food from the
pig big dog, Miss Maybelline, I endure the drivel coming out of the black box. If it is so upsetting, why don’t the beans just turn it off? One of the beans is also addicted to something called NastyCar, which consists of…cars go around and around in a circle all afternoon, usually on Sunday afternoons. They never actually get anywhere, so what is the point?
Last week, the black plastic box said that a French bean named Marcel Marceau died in France. Supposedly, he was a
mite mime and never said a word. How refreshing!
Read more about the hijacked garden tour.
Photo credit: Ecole Internationale de Mimodrame de Paris Marcel Marceau
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