|Sweet scented Russian Olive shrub|
There I was minding my own business--I think I was cooking at the time. I know I was inside the house--when Tom comes in and says, "Hey, I got you a Russian Olive."
Stunned, I just gaped at him. "Where the heck did you buy a Russian Olive? They don't exactly sell them in the rinky-dink garden center in town," I exclaimed.
He smirks at me as he's washing the evidence of his crime right off his hands. "I found it in the field across the street so I dug it up. It was right next to the Scotch pine I'd been eying for a year now. They're both planted in the arboretum now."
|Tom likes baby Scotch pines|
I just shook my head and went back to cooking. I take seeds, I borrow clipping, I nip anything which I take a fancy to just as long as no one's looking, but a three foot tall shrub and a four foot high tree? Even I wouldn't go there!
|If I see seeds, they're mine!|
My-oh-my. Seemed quite clear to me I wasn't the only pilferer in the family. Which begs the question: Is it a contagious virus or hereditary?