When it came to painting, she employed the monkeys to help.
And we had a few lovely weeks to admire our little bit of artwork. Evidently, someone in the neighbourhood did too because we kept finding cute little toadstools deposited secretly at nighttime by a guerilla knitter.
Then one Saturday night I heard a bit of a drunken hullaballoo out front. Which I ignored because we are on a thoroughfare to the station and I'm often hearing a drunken hullaballoo out the front. But in the morning we discovered our sculpture had been ripped apart! Half of it was missing - fortunately discovered and returned by a passer-by at the station. So for over a year it sat a maimed broken colourful stick.
Until last week when our plumber decided to fix it for us.
Yay! Happy dance.
If you'd like to see my favourite, naturestrip garden in our neighbourhood, check out this previous post.