It was a dark and stormy night... [thunder crashes; the corner street lamp flickers off and on; a dog barks in the distance; the muffled "shhhnk" of a shovel sunk into rich soil; silent screams from trembling plants; large, round, glowing-gold eyes appear menacingly in the window...]
Mr I. Ben Robbed and his wife M.B. Myplants, our heroes, were happily tucked in under the covers, enjoying a good night's dreamy sleep, while their black panther, Onyx the Supervisor, snored cozily at the foot of the bed.
(Really she's a house cat - not a panther...but she thinks she's a panther.)
Suddenly a loud clanging, nerve-jangling clamor jerked them all from their pleasant slumber....the sound of the alarm clock going off. Time to get up and see what damage the storm left in its wake.
As Mr. I.B.R made the rounds, admiring his gardens, stopping to smell the...um...the...abelia (he has no roses), stooping to say hello to the clover growing in the grass, dodging the occasional falling torpedo (catalpa seed pod), marveling at the new growth on the trailing forsythia (that's another story), he suddenly noticed something that was cause for pause.
Actually it was what he didn't notice that brought him to a stop in his tracks.
He didn't notice his hydrangeas...not all of them.
He did a double-take, and then a complete back-track. Rushing to the spot where he had just recently carefully and lovingly nestled his two baby hydrangea plants, he noticed instead two very empty, very newly dug holes. In fact, it looked like they had just been ripped violently from their beds!
Ahhhhh!! Who would do such a thing?!? In broad moonlight? In a garden fully visible from the street? On a fairly busy corner? Directly under a bright street lamp? With Onyx the panther glaring menacingly from the window just a few feet away?
Who would just rip two baby hydrangea plants out of the garden like that?
Mr. I. Ben Robbed cried out (at least inwardly) exactly what he should cry out at a time like this:
"I've been ROBBED!!"
His wife, hearing his pained cry, sprang from the bed to see what was the matter,
Away to the window she flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
When what to her wondering eyes should appear?
But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny....
Oh wait! Sorry. Getting a little carried away.
When Mr I. Ben told her the whole sad story, she let out her own cry of anguish: "Ohhhh... them are My Plants!"
Onyx the Supervisor heard the commotion and sauntered over to inspect the issue.
She took one look at the two empty hydrangea beds, pillows scattered and covers all askew, and looked up and said "Mrrangh." (She doesn't really meow very well, but the supposed translation is something to the effect of "I watched the whole thing happen from the window and tried to alert you, but no one ever listens to me!").
Mr Robbed and Mrs Myplants spent the next few hours grilling the neighbors for any leads and scouring the garden for any clues.
Surely someone (besides the very helpful but verbally-challenged Onyx) heard something!
Alas, it was no use.
They eventually turned to grilling a chicken for lunch and scouring the grill they cooked it on, resigning themselves to the fact that they would never know WHO stole their precious baby hydrangeas. Or HOW someone could stoop so low. Or WHY a person (or perhaps a whole gang of hydrangea thieves) would do such a thing.
Mr. Robbed thought of contacting the police to track down the hydrangeas, but he realized that sadly he had no leaf-prints or dental records, not a trace of DNA from his two babies.
They consoled themselves as best they could, taking comfort in the fact that the remaining garden plants were unhurt and relatively unaffected by the whole matter.
It was not long after this that I came on the scene.
Mr Robbed showed me the sad and empty hydrangea bed where the two siblings had been snoozing that fateful night.
Having been the one to do the actual physical planting of the two babies in the garden not long before that, I was understandably aghast and distraught at such an appalling act.
I vowed to do all in my power to track down and rescue those two hydrangea babies.
So I hired an age-progression expert artist who also loves to garden. Based on the description given to her by our brave heroes, this is the picture she came up with:
Please take a close look, and if you recognize this plant or if you see it while you are out and about, strolling through gardens, please contact me and I will pass the information along to the appropriate authorities.
Together, we can make a difference for this family!
(I hope you enjoyed this story and the hydrangeas that took center stage, or rather that didn't appear on stage at all. Just one important clarifying note for those readers who might take this a little too seriously...please don't really send me any leads or information regarding possible sightings of these plants! Thanks!)
