Murder In The Garden

My title this week may sound like a cozy mystery, but if only that were the case. The events I'm about to relate actually did happen.

I had hired a lawn service this summer to mow and edge the yard every two weeks. The first time they came, a few weeks ago, everything was fine, except they left the fence gate open so Mary could run out and play in the street. Fortunately, we discovered the open gate before she did.

But this past week, they came again when we weren't at home. The guy wielding the edger had obviously been told the only things to keep were the flowering plants, regardless of whether they were in a flower bed or not. So all my hostas with their big fat leaves,

so evenly spaced out at the edge of the house, and my wild ferns,

which had looked so lush just that morning, were mowed down. Even the back fern bed, which had a rock border around it, was not spared. And the rose bush, who dared to not have a bloom on it? Cut to the quick. What he did manage to leave behind were some weeds that were blooming. Thanks, guy.

I called the owner of the lawn service who came out and witnessed the carnage. All he could do was put down some fertilizer and offer his condolences. I'm now searching for a new lawn company.

This would have been devastating to me if not for two things happening in the same week. I was offered a contract from Wild Rose Press for a Christmas novella in their Sweetheart Rose line,

and another contract from Prairie Rose Publications for a full-length historical. I have just added two new roses to my repertoire. So...out of the ashes of my desecrated yard came two new flowering bushes. My garden is growing once again.

To quote Bruce Willis from the Die Hard movies--"Yippee-kai-yea." You know the rest.