The other day I was half-heartedly yanking morning glories and other assorted weeds out of one of my flower beds when I was struck by a shocking sight.

Yes, Dad, I’ve finally gotten some blueberries out of those bushes you sent me! That would be the second set of bushes he sent me. The first one being the one that was doing A-OK until we went away for a three-day weekend. They were just plain dead when we returned, for no reason I can conjur. This current set first lived on the opposite side of the yard since I was convinced I was going to kill them again in the spot the previous one was in. But then Dad convinced me the first place was better, so I moved them a couple years ago. And, well, I guess he was right. Dad rocks.

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