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Many are familiar with the , ironically Wars of the Roses fought between the royal House of Plantagenet (get it?  Plants!!!) or the houses of York (white rose symbol) and Lancaster (red rose symbol) for the throne of England.  The victor was Henry Tudor on the Lancaster side, who married Elizabeth of York to unite the two houses.  Romantic if you look at it from that perspective.

My house is fighting a lesser known war — the War of the Marigolds.  I guarantee you it is not so romantic, especially since this war will not be resolved with a marriage.  It’s more likely to be resolved with me sleeping on the couch.

Marigolds are a flower that are an essential annual for our yard.  They are not my favorite flower, but I like them for a number of reasons.  They repel insects, so I usually plant them around the edge of my garden (when I plant a garden — which is not every year).  There are many varieties, all of them hardy and long lasting, usually blooming healthily into November.  As long as the weeds are managed around the plants, marigolds provide a handsome display, a display I prefer to consider as masculine, a proud demonstration of my floral manhood. 

That may be the reason why my wife keeps pulling them up.  She is of the female variety who prefers to keep manhood at bay. 

And thus the War of the Marigolds.  Every year I plant them, every year I make the mistake of pointing out the flourishing bed of marigolds to my wife.  Shortly thereafter, she “accidentally” pulls the plants, claiming she though they were weeds and she was just trying to help out.  Listen, dear, that excuse only should work once and, well, it’s been a few more times than once.  This year she pulled the marigolds when they were about a week from bloom, the buds already appearing amongst the bushy stalks.

I just said “bushy stalks”.

How long had it been since I had pointed out the marigolds to her?  Less than a week.

Guess I should know better by now.

Undaunted, I raked the plot of ground she had just laid bare, planted new marigold seeds, this time the large bush variety.  I instructed our sheltie, Nick, to bark at Miriam ferociously should she get near the new plants.

They survived.  It is mid-September, but as the picture provides testimony, we have large yellow marigold blooms, bright and friendly, three inches wide for some of the biggest flowers, tall bushy stalks.  Man flowers.

I WEEEEEEEEEENNNNNNNN!!!!!

 

 

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