Yesterday afternoon, I go to water it and as I'm gently lifting the branches up - what do I see? Yep - a pretzel! A pretzel? A pretzel in my poinsettia?
What the heck is all that about? Would you like to see the evidence? I just knew you would, that's why I took this photo for you:
Do you see it there? Do you? Isn't it just awful? The desecration of my beautiful poinsettia. My innocent poinsettia. Such a shame. (Yes, I'm a hippie - I know it's good, organic material. But I enjoy railing on about this stuff, so don't rain on my railing parade, okay?)
Now, lots of children come through this house, so there's really no telling which of the little hellions is the guilty party. I do know that on Thanksgiving day, two of our older guys were sitting next to it eating their big meals. (We've got a pack of four older boys - ranging from 17-21, they are adorable, I just love them - the rascals! They are cousins, cousin's kids, and the like. Mark has so much family around here, we just wind up calling everybody 'cousin' - it's easier that way. After a few rounds of "This is Mary's sister's cousin's brother's uncle." You begin to realize that 'cousin' works just fine!) But they were eating their Thanksgiving dinner, and I know for a fact that we didn't have pretzels on the menu.
The kids have lots of friends that traipse in and out most days, too. So there's really no telling which one needs to pay for this heinous crime.
Quite the little 'poinsettia-pretzel mystery' we have here, isn't it? I'll have to keep an eye on the little buggers when they're around my oxygen-giving buddies from now on!