While visiting the Missouri Botanical Garden  with my son, we noticed a sweet, wonderful smell in the air.  This fragrance caused us both to stop and look around to find where it was coming from.  It was fruity; sweet and light, and only in certain places.   Although it was a warm day, it was winter.  What could be blooming at this time of year?  Whatever this plant was, I wanted it for my own garden.  We made a beeline for the Kemper Center.  Surely the people at the answer desk  would know what on earth this wonderful plant could be.  They didn't know immediately, but would call me later with the answer.  Sure enough, by the time  we got home, a message was waiting for us on the answering machine.   The  wonderful, sweet smell we noticed that day was called "Goose Chase."  I never heard of a plant called Goose Chase. 
The message went on to say that Goose Chase is the name of a product used on the grass to keep the geese from eating there.   (Oops) 
This  substance is made  from the  by-product of pressed grapes (hence the sweet smell).  The tannins in this substance makes the grass taste bad to the geese.  Well, I learned something for having asked that question, but I was glad they couldn't see my face when I heard the answer! 
       ^{------------------------------------------------} 

CLOSE CALL?
 I visited some local nurseries one Friday, to collect plants for my new and improved flower garden.  Tommy, my eight year old, didn't have school that day and came along.    Bees and butterflies were making the rounds among the plants as we walked.   Suddenly, he did what I call  "the bug dance,"   from a flying insect that got too close.  Then a look of relief came over his face as he bravely said, "A butterfly landed on me and tried to pollinate me, but I shook him off and he flew away."

FOR A GOOD TIME...  You know you're a true gardener when instead of going bar-hopping with your friends you go "nursery hopping" for a  REALLY good time!  You return home loaded (with plants) and the buzz is from the bees! 

LET'S CHAT OVER COFFEE

   My good friend Tracy lives in a small town in Wisconsin.  She uses her composted grass clippings, leaves, etc. to amend her sandy soil.  Last year, she discovered that a local coffee business was willing to give her their used grounds so she could use them for composting.  She routinely picks up heaping buckets full of used grounds and filters which are also compostable.
     One day, her neighbor had company over, and they had remarked that my friend must really be into organic gardening.  When the neighbor asked why, the visitor made a comment about the heaping piles of “stuff” in that garden, and asked if my friend “did it” in a pail and dumped it outside (the exposed filters looked like toilet paper, not to mention the appearance of the coffee grounds).  The neighbor then explained about the coffee!

----------------------------------- 
Said the papa pumpkin to his new son in law: "Treat her in the manure in which she is accustomed" 
----------------------------------- 

A GRAVE DECISION
My friend Tammy explained to our garden club that she moves plants around so much in her yard, her husband told her that when she dies, he will have to move her grave every year to make her feel more comfortable!

IT'S ALL TOAST
A dry spell this year forced our water company to encourage rationing in our city to save water.  Of course, when you have an investment such as gardens to maintain, one has to sacrifice the lawn for the flowers and vegetables. So I gave up trying to water my lawn.  During this time, my friend Maureen and her husband Vance had shared some divisions of their plants with me, including a fabulous "Zebra" grass that I had admired. Maureen told me that after planting the grass, I should water the "heck" out of it. So the grass was planted and faithfully watered  each day, though the weather continued to be dry.  Two weeks later, in a phone conversation, Maureen asked me "How's your grass?"  Thinking she meant the lawn, I told her "It's toast. Pretty crispy right now."  I heard gasps from the other end of the phone.  "Really? Oh that's terrible!  The grass I gave you?"  That's when I realized which grass she meant!

Don't eat onions in your car!!

     Yesterday on the way home from work, I spotted a hot dog shack with a big sign that said "Chicago Style" hot dogs.  I ate a delicious dog, dripping with onions, hot peppers, pickles and tomatoes. A piece of onion fell on the carpet, which I retrieved; however, my hands were so stinky from touching the onions
and stuff falling off the bun, that I had to make a quick stop at home to wash off, before going to the gym.
     Once there, my hands still smelled so bad, I couldn't believe it.   I got into the car and smelled that unmistakable odor. After brushing my fingernails and hands with liquid detergent, the smell was still there.
     This morning I took the room deodorizer into the car with me to work, for a couple of sprays before leaving the car. Maybe one stinky smell will cover over the other stinky smell!

Sandra Schmitz
President-Gardeners of Parkway 

**************************************************************

MY FISH STORY

Coming home from a trip to the store, my 10 year old son kept asking what was in my bag.   I told him it was fish emulsion.  "What's compulsion?" he asked me.  I think I will save that explanation for the spring plant sale...     -Fran

"Kids love instant results, so having them help with bedding plants in bloom or close to it is a great way to get little ones interested in the garden. And they love to water things with the hose. My three-year-old grandson was sprinkling a new patch of grass when his 20-month old brother decided to get wet, too. "Okay," I said, stripping the little one to a diaper, "sprinkle Benny." "And he will grow big like me," said Spencer. I nodded, but was unprepared for his next remark. "Then we'll mow him!"

Lynn

----------------------------------------------------------
An old man lived alone in Minnesota. He wanted to spade his potato garden,
but it was very hard work. His only son, who would have helped him, was in
Prison. The old man wrote to his son and mentioned his predicament. Shortly,
he received this reply, "For HEAVEN'S SAKE Dad, don't dig up that garden,
that's where I buried the BANK MONEY!"

At 4 A.M. the next morning, a dozen police showed up and dug up the entire
garden, without finding any money. Confused, the old man wrote another note
to his son telling him what happened, and asking him what to do next. His
son's reply was:

"Now plant your potatoes, Dad. It's the best I could do at this time."