Flossie's new herb garden

Hi neighbors. Flossie stopped by the other day to see if I would help her with building an herb garden. I thought that simple task couldn't be too demanding. I should have remembered it was Flossie that was going to make it.

We spent most of the morning trying to design various gardens. She didn't like my favorite garden type, which was a stairway type. The picture on the Internet showed all the mature herbs complimenting each other by color, shape and height.

"I don't like that," Flossie said flatly. "I don't even like the herbs they are growing in it. I need something bigger at the bottom for things I really like, strawberries for instance."

"Are strawberries considered herbs?" I realized that was a loaded question that might cause some contention and quickly added, "More coffee?"

She looked at me, obviously irritated. She took the offered refill and quickly stirred in the milk and sugar.

"The term 'herb garden' does not limit the imagination or productivity of my garden.

With nose in the air, she turned back to the computer. Setting her cup down, she stared at the stair-step garden concept and sighed.

"Maybe we need to consider just what you want in this garden, how much of it you want and what you want it to look like."

"I think we need another name for it," Flossie said flatly. "Herb garden seems to be limiting. Let's just call it Flossie's think small, but productive garden!" She waved her hand with the last few words in a grandiose sweep.

She picked up her cup and took a sip. "We need to think bigger! We need to think fountain instead of stair steps. You know what I mean?" She looked at me and noted my completely baffled look and continued.

She sighed. "Look at this," and she proceeded to draw a fountain shape with a large round base and three tiers coming up in lessening stages from the center. "Here's what we need!"

It did look good on paper. "How are we going to do that?" I quickly slipped a couple of cookies onto her dessert plate next to her coffee cup.

She grabbed one up quickly, afire with the thought of constructing her new "small, but productive garden."

She was quiet for a few minutes, munching cookies, stirring her cup and gulping coffee. Amazingly, as usual, Flossie's inspiration for action materialized at the same time the coffee and cookies disappeared.

"We need one of those huge tractor tires. I mean a huge one!"

"OK, but where will we find one of those?"

"We'll call Patrick. He has lots of tires from fixing flats for farmers. Come on!" She grabbed her sweater and away we went.

Patrick's repair yard was less than a mile from Flossie's place on the outskirts of town. We left the pavement behind and traveled a dirt road for a short while.

Patrick showed us several used tires, but none of them were big enough according to Flossie. "I've got just what you want!" Patrick said and disappeared into a metal shed. He returned driving a bulldozer.

He waved for us to follow him. Half buried in his scrapyard was a huge tire.

He worked at digging it out and when finished he pushed it upright till it stood before us like a door to another dimension -- a door big enough to drive a train, or float a battleship, through.

The tire was least seven feet tall! Flossie's eyes were glowing. "Now THAT's what I'm talking about!"

"Flossie, how will you get it home? Where in your little yard is there room for it? How will you find enough dirt to fill it up?"

"Oh, don't you worry about that."

Somehow Flossie talked Patrick into pushing it home down the dirt road. What they had both forgotten was the small, but steep, hill just above Flossie's house.

The huge tire rolled down the center of the dirt road with Patrick's bulldozer herding it along. When it started down the hill it outdistanced the bulldozer quickly.

Flossie screamed as she saw it gaining speed and wobbling off its here-to-fore straight path. It seemed to be headed right for Flossie's little house. Luckily it was veered off course when it flattened one side of Flossie's brand new red Ford Fusion.

The huge tire stopped moving, started to fall, wobbled like a dime on a table and finally landed near Flossie's front porch.

Patrick walked up behind us as we stared first at the Ford then the tire. "Guess you wouldn't consider just letting that tire lie where it landed?" he asked hopefully.