I can’t even chase chipmunks through the lavender gardens without getting a lecture from Carrie about the poor little chipmunks! She claims that I have been violating our agreement. What about poor me?
Everywhere I go I am told NO! The greenhouse is for customers. Don’t sleep on the salt marsh hay… it’s the best stuff for plant beds. So! What about my bed? Stay out of the lawn mower repair shop. We sharpen blades, not cat claws. No digging in our new children’s pumpkin patch. Hey, that’s why I needed my claws sharpened. And, now, just when I think I am safe strolling through the beautiful display of summer patio and annual plants on the front lawn, they booby trap me by turning on the sprinkler system. No warning whatsoever. I am constantly hearing Kim and her staff talking to plants, and they think I need counseling. And another thing, they forget that I am the reason that customers come here. Just the other day, former First Lady Mrs. Bush visited and the staff paid more attention to her than me. What was she first in? I have been first at many things, like the first to complain and the first to tell you about myself. And I didn’t get a title.
If this continues, I may take Charles’ cousin Carol’s offer to move to New Jersey and stay with her. That would show them! Oh, but my fans would miss me terribly.
See you next time,
King George
Well, it’s been a while. I haven’t seen you, my adoring fans, since Christmas. That was when Charles got so angry with me for jumping into the Christmas tree. How was I to know that those new bird ornaments aren’t real? That really put him in the giving spirit… he threatened to “give” me back to the Animal Welfare Society! HA! The rest of my winter was fairly uneventful. I got lots of beauty rest, as you’ll notice when you come to see me.
Now that spring has arrived, it is really busy around here. The humans are crazy and treat me like I don’t even exist. I was shut in the barn for 2 days, for my birthday no less, before anyone noticed I was missing. No wonder I dine out when I can. Besides, the neighbors have better food. Oh, and this new woman, Carrie, washed my bed. Yuck! It doesn’t smell the same. I’ll just have to go lay in all the herbs, annuals, and vegetable plants and roll around in the mulch before I go back to bed. That should get it back to normal. Speaking of herbs, I can’t wait until the catnip arrives!!!
Now that the farm and greenhouse are open for the season, I am eager to welcome you back. Please come see me — I could use the attention.
Your friend in catnip,
King George of Wallingford Farm
On Saturdays, the children ride around on a wagon full of my straw, screaming! And as for the greenhouse, it is full of very weird stuff. The big humans get all excited over the UGLIEST GOURDS you have ever seen. There are 9 different colors of pumpkins from which to choose. Silly humans can’t make up their minds. 9, really! Can you believe it? Martha Stewart would love it. Whatever happened to plain orange? They go crazy over these broomsticks with clothes and painted faces – they call them scarecrows. Although the mums are beautiful, the ornamental cabbage and kale taste terrible.
And the barn is worse! They dip perfectly good apples into caramel and people actually pay for them. My bed has been in the same spot on the counter for 10 years. THEY MOVED IT!!! THEY ACTUALLY MOVED IT! Then, they put Indian corn in its place. It makes no sense. I have not seen an Indian at Wallingford Farm in months. Then, of course, mean old Bethany squirted me again when I was sniffing the dried flowers. And Delle… she’s another one! She’s the culprit who moved my bed, and then had the nerve to kick me off the Fall Bulb display while I was sleeping. Now where can I go? I hope Lori shows up soon to defend me. She’s my only true friend (although, sometimes I think she’s strange).
Save Yourself! I’d stay away if I were you… unless you like that sort of thing.
Your friend in catnip,
King George of Wallingford Farm
I am not one to complain, but nobody tells me anything. Who knew that the sign said “Wet Paint”, not “Catnip”, and that I could not sleep in the beautiful, cool lavender field because Bethany, my nemesis, is harvesting it to make our own Lavender Wreaths. La Di Da Da Da, whatever! Or, that I can’t sleep in the firewood pile because I startle the campers picking up wood. Does Charles care that they startle me just as much? – Nooooooo. And, I can’t even lie in front of the fans in the lower barn on these hot days, because “it is for the customers” – Ha! It’s for Hilary! She’s not fooling me. Speaking of Hilary, she gave me the highest insult of all when she told me “I was behaving like Charles”, who by the way cut my food to one half can per day. He thinks I’m getting fat. I am not! I am just healthy and lovable.
I see the bakery, candy, fudge, and coffee center are all opening July, 4th weekend. All I care about is the return of my cheese section!
I could go on, but until next time,
King George
It’s me again! There is no place like home except for all the rules. Rules, rules, and more rules. I, for example, am unable to abandon my plant tray bed occasionally and sprawl out in the middle of the counter for better positioning to get petted because, apparently, that is where Charles’ customers set down their Japanese Beetle Spray, Slug Magic, and other plant stuff.
I’ve been banned from the statuary section where I like to nap in the birdbath. Charles says, “It’s for JUST the birds.” HE’S for the birds! Kim said, “No sniffing the hydrangea blossoms.” WHY? I like how they feel on my nose! And oh, by the way, while beach roses have a simply intoxicating scent, I prefer them as jam — but when I bit the leaves, they tasted terrible!
It wasn’t enough to tell me not to “park myself” in the fire lane. I like to roll around and scratch my back. It feels divine. And before I could recover from that persnickety little RULE, they yelled at me for leaping from table to table in the new greenhouse. They said it startled the customers. But that’s a lie because, unlike some people here, they love me!!!
After I got sprayed with water for sniffing those luscious peony bouquets in the lower barn, I thought I’d escape for a while from those meanies. I just managed to fall asleep atop a nice warm straw bale when some nincompoop started to cover it up with a tarp, trapping me. I had to scramble for my life. Can’t one of you, my faithful followers, do something about these people here trying to sabotage my fun?
Until next time,
King George of Wallingford Farm
All the signs are there: the parking lot is busy, the greenhouse is full, those humans are all around. I know it’s coming…
nepeta cataria!!!!! Otherwise known as CATNIP. Oh, the excitement!
This year they’ll really keep their eyes on me and I know it. I did take over all the catnip that Kim ordered last year. I admit that. But it was DIVINE, and boy, did Charles carry on about it… and on… and on… and ON. I hid in the straw bales for two days just so I wouldn’t have to listen to him.
They don’t know it, but I’ve got a plan. I saw Sue planting one of the raised bed kits. She was talking to that nice lady who scratches me so divinely behind the ears when she comes in. Oh, where was I? Who cares about tomatoes, basil, eggplant, lettuce, cucumbers, peppers, and zucchini when you could have all of it planted in catnip! And I am pretty sure I can sweet talk one of the silly humans into building an extra raised bed for that single purpose.
Behind the barn, would be nice — the afternoon sun is so purrfect and Charles would never think to look out there. A whole summer’s worth of catnip… nirvana.
Until we meet again,
King George
At Wallingford Farm
Hi! It’s me again. As usual, Charles is insensitive to my feelings! He comes down to the lower barn at closing and says “Time to close. Are you staying in the barn or the house? Choose!” Often I am exhausted from all the customers’ attention and I don’t want to move from my comfortable bed that my admirers have provided for me. He then locks me in the barn and leaves. BUT I HAVE A PLAN! When our new greenhouse is ready this week, I am going to spend every night in it, sniffing all the unusual beautiful plants. This reminds me, if they can have so many great Mother’s Day plants, then I think I am entitled to one single George’s Day plant – MY CATNIP! The best part is, the greenhouse is so warm and cozy, and beautifully taken care of by Kim and Lori. They are always nice to me and side with me against Charles… as does Sue McDonough, our landscape designer who is back for the season, and is sure to have something special for me!
Your friend in catnip,
King George of Wallingford Farm
Well it’s that time of year. They’re all running around here like something important is going to happen. It’s the same thing every year at this time. Don’t they value my peace and quiet? Bad enough I couldn’t get that miser, Charles, to heat up my food all winter, and for the past month you could float a boat down Route 1 (even the field mice went to higher ground), now he hardly is paying any attention to me. Him and that clipboard and those insane glasses… can’t he find a pair with two stems? The man is his own fashion statement, I swear. Why can’t he be more like Kim? That neat, efficient, beautiful amazing woman (yes she is the ONE who orders the catnip!!! and all the other thousands of plants that people seem to swoon and carry on about), or Hillary down in the lower barn, fun and friendly, willing to scratch my belly in between ringing up sales, answering customer’s questions, and stocking shelves? Not a chance. Day and night he scribbles notes, pencil moving as quick as a Maine summer. He makes me so mad! This is MY farm, I run the show and if he THINKS I will allow him to move my bed away from that cash register where my adoring fans pay me homage, he’s got another thing coming. I must sign off for now, my Wallingford friends. I have an appointment to get my nails sharpened for mice season. I’ll see you soon. And yes, you can count on it, I’ll be by the register. You may scratch my robust little tummy, and I’ll not charge you a cent. But he will, if you decide to buy plants, fertilizer, planting pots or anything. He’s like that.
Your friend in catnip,
King George of Wallingford Farm
