Thursday, November 10, 2011

Take back of the Moley Land ...

My father, Daddy, is one of my favorite people in the world. 99% of the time he's one of the most chilled out, 'Que Sera, Sera' people I know:
Lover of Nature and Lover of Life.
 And in that 1% of the time he's not Zen, there are only a handful of things that get him riled up. Family, for starters, is big with him. His job, is another; though, he has an amazing ability to leave work at the doorstep each day. And strangely enough, his yard maintenance ranks high on the list of "Things that have the ability to irritate".
Is that ragweed I see in my petunias?!?

I should clarify and say that Lawn Maintenance isn't so much the stressor for him; in fact, he typically de-stresses each day by leaf blowing the pool deck. It's things that disrupt his Maintained Maintenance that can cause issues. Things like leaves on the deck, weeds in the flower beds, moles in the yard ...
Dun. Dun. Duuuuuuuuuuuuuunnnnnnn.

Wait. Let me go back and set the scene: First, you should know that Daddy loves (and I mean loves) his brick patio edgers. Maybe he draws serenity from their perfectly aligned arrangements or maybe he's the genetic link to my OCD. Who knows.

During my most recent visit, as I was drying my hair one morning, Daddy rushed in the bathroom with sweat on his brow, dress shirt sleeves rolled up, coffee cup in hand (it's the little things) and says, "Get outside, now. You've gotta see this." "This" was well, this:
Those pavers should be at EXACTLY 94.6 degrees!

A mole had struck at Stately Rankin Manor. And as any good OCD suffer knows, you just can't ignore interrupted chaos. So, dress slacks and all, Mandrake, my father, got down to the business of re-straightening edgers and stomping down Mole Holes. It was a site to be seen:
Re-enactment for photographic purposes...

"Can you believe that sucker?", my dad asked. "I can't believe he (the mole) knocked down my edgers." As I tired to reassure Daddy that I don't think moles are discriminating in their destruction, he headed off to work.

Fast forward to lunch, Daddy comes home and this is what he's greeted with:
What the....

The mole had returned and this time, he declared war. Not knowing who he (the mole) was messing with (my "not going to let it rest" Father) it was Game. On. Poolside. And so, back to the straightening and hole stomping:
That evening, when Daddy returned home from work for the day, before even taking off his tie he was in the backyard, for Mole-Gate 2011. The mole did not disappoint:
 This time, he not only re-knocked down every. single. edger he previously did work on, he moved it on over to the next flower garden's edgers. That sneaky bast mole:
Working with time-limited options during the busy work-week, Daddy and the mole played "You Next" all week long:

Touché mole, touché

That weekend, after I returned home and Daddy had time to visit his local garden and lawn care store, Mount Holly Farm Supply, I received this image via text message from my Father:
 With the message: If this doesn't work, I'm buying dynamite.

As it turns out, The Molemover did not, in fact, work. And to really get rid of moles, for good, you have to get rid of the grubs that the eat in the soil. It's sort of like the book, "If You Give a Mouse a Cookie"... except, in this story Mr. Mole will be meeting his maker sooner than later if he keeps up Operation De-Edger.


1 comment:

  1. Funny!! Jack is probably wondering why I am giggling over here on my computer...