Garden Warfare

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I do love you, I know I’m not that great at showing it sometimes.

—–> If you love me, why did you run over my lilies with the tractor?  Why did you make a giant pile of leaves in the middle of the back yard?  I told you not to.

I’m sorry. I have apologized ten times. Those were awful mistakes I made.  One bad turn with the tractor and two lilies got smashed in an instant.  There was no place else to put the leaves.  Two dreadful mistakes which happened two months ago.  You need to forgive and forget.  I am not perfect.  You are very important to me.  Please don’t leave.  I need you.

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Our Tractor

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At twelve I was catching a buzz with my cute neighbor in the barn.
My father yelled out the back door, “Stephen, get on the mower!”

Our tractor was a red 1948 Farmall Cub with a sickle bar, and it pulled three rotary mowers. Our five acres of grass also had trees, stumps, and groundhog holes.
Slightly miscalculating a turn, the sickle bar cut down Dad’s fruit-bearing cherry tree, and several small pine trees he had just planted.

I told him that, all at the same time, a ground hog crossed my path and a big horsefly bit me. I smacked my cheek a couple times to make it look red. The horsefly had caused the accident.
I waited until after he had his martini to tell him.