Mary Mary, why ya buggin'?

This afternoon, rather than do interior work I am dreading, I opted to work in my yard, specifically on the garden at the side door of my house. When we first moved in, there was a rather sizable concrete statue of the Virgin Mary, not surprising being that we're in a very Catholic neighborhood. Craig still holds some of his old Jehovah's Witness issues with Catholicism (apparently the Catholics and JWs don't like one another, sort of like a religious version of the Lindsay HoHan/Hillary Duff feud), and wanted Mary to be gone right away. I rather liked her for her camp value and wanted to tart her up in some hot pink robes and eyeshadow until that was frowned upon by Dirty Debbey, a staunch Catholic despite having the foulest mouth this side of perp on "COPS".

Now, I'm not in the least bit religious anymore, but I couldn't bring myself to haul her to the curb with the trash. There's just something really distasteful of putting the mother of someone's religion out with the endless supply of empty wine and vodka bottles for recycling. So, she has remained in her place in the garden by our side door (the main door for residences in this neighborhood...don't ask me why) until this week when I wheeled the Blessed Virgin to the cursed backyard where she is currently standing guard over the soon-to-be-planted herb garden.



In her place, I put up a trellis with some clematis vines that were already growing in the garden among the 10,000 ferns. I took up a bunch of the fern roots, and also planted an assortment of wildflower seeds, as well as bulbs for hot pink and orange lilies. Then I mulched the whole mess around all the artfully placed rocks, and carefully positioned the new icon of the Germantown neighborhood:

You can't see our new pink glass and copper fowl friend terribly well in this photo, but I call him Crackers, after the chicken pervert son in the John Waters classic "Pink Flamingoes". Something tells me all is not right with my garden decisions, though. I saw this on my way home from Garden Ridge this afternoon:

Crackers' days may already be numbered.