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2004-06-04 - 9:24 a.m. Enter Herman If you live in the DC area and haven�t been to this years Shakespeare Free-For-All go. Get off the couch and don�t miss this fabulously funny production of Much Ado About Nothing. It is the best stage production I�ve ever seen � and why not, when the little bushes move and Beatrice and Bendick just sparkle. (It doesn�t surpass Kenneth Brannagh�s movie, but the big screen, big budget, on location has advantages that live stage can never copy.) C�mon. Only tonight and tomorrow left for performances. Along with the play, we loaded up for a picnic in the park � blankets on the ground, breezes stirring gently, sunlight filtered through the trees, fresh cherries shared and the pits unabashedly spit, squirrels scampering. The leftovers we piled into the Genevieve�s tote for intermission snacking. So what if the angel food cake got a bit squished? It was still homemade angel food cake. My mom went with us to the play, having arrived Thursday, which allowed my friends to dime me out. Gen So, did you bring the logging chain? Mel: Yeah, since you decided to come it�s been all about the logging chain. Mom blinks. Well, yes. I went and got a couple chains out of the tractor box - Her brother has the long one wrapped around the fence at the top of the hill - There in the five gallon feed bucket in the trunk. Friday, Roland (coward) went to work. Mom and I chained up the hideous shrubbery in front of the house and yanked it all out, an operation that caused the transplanted Nebraska farmgirl to stare out her front door longingly at even the hint of farm work. I hate azaleas. I hates me some azaleas I do. Now comes the replanting phase, so Mom and I went to a couple nurseries yesterday, where we proved again Mom knows a scary amount about plants. Of course, she thought (ha) it would take $200 to fill that huge area with plants. She did not understand how different this area is from her native land. Lamb�s ear? she squawked. They sell lamb�s ear. I rip that stuff out left and right. Thistles?!?! You�ve got to be kidding me! They. Sell. Thistles! Thinking of the hours she�s spent cutting thistles out of the pasture: I could make a mint! Mom, I say gently, as she starts in on the ornamental pasture grasses that look like cow food to her they are not of your tribe. Finally, we buy some ferns and hostas, some topsoil and load up Herman to head home. Herman, you ask? I wanted, for reasons I cannot explain, a Japanese maple. I�ve always wanted one. I think a small one would look splendid next to my front door. After casting about two nurseries for several hours, I, never known for patience, snapped. That one. I say to Mom. We shall take that one, we shall take him home and plant him and love him, and we shall call him Herman. Herman? Mom makes a face. So did the nice information desk people when we asked them to hold Herman while we picked up the annuals. I call Roland to reassure him we�re heading home. Hi, honey. Hello. We�re all loaded, us and Herman, and we�re hoping you cooked dinner. Herman? He�s a Japanese maple. We�re going to plan him next to the front door. Long pause. Hesitation. Isn�t a Japanese maple a tree? We don�t want to plant a tree next to the house. Sweetheart, I�ve become quite fond of Herman, and I�m sure you�ll love him too. I � see. Roland seems okay with Herman. Or maybe he just took the fifteen minutes while we drove home to reconcile himself. I think we�ll call the hosta next to Herman Harriet. � � Scribble to Theo previous - next �