He's tall, dark and handsome and does a swell job of keeping watch over our garden. Tonya made him for me last year as a birthday request. Yes, I wanted a scarecrow for my birthday and I wasn't afraid to ask for it. The only problem is that he's been scaring me more than the birds. There have been several times when I've looked out back and had to do a double take because I thought some creepy farmer was stalking (no pun intended) us back in the field.
Our neighbor informed us that he had picked up the phone to call 911 after waking up and seeing a strange man in the field behind his house. Luckily, he came to his senses before taking aim with his rifle and leaving me with a headless scarecrow with Halloween just around the corner. That would have been a true tragedy.
He doesn't have a name yet, but he will soon. I seem to name everything else. My bike (Black Betty), our pickup truck (Big Blue), the trailer (Wild, Blue Yonder). It only seems appropriate at this point to give him a name too. Maybe, Scary Larry? Until then, this hunk of straw is all mine.
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