As I was driving to work this morning, listening to The Current, as I do every morning, the substitute host Jackie Fuller made a major confession. One that I thought would get one run out of Minnesota by mobs brandishing pitchforks and torches. She hates hostas. Yep, that's right, those squat little plants that coat the suburban landscape of Minnesota shooting their alien little flower appendages up waving in the breeze every summer. Well, world, if Jackie can admit it, so can I. I hate hostas. To the point I have stricken potential homes from the list purely do to the abundance of hostas.
What!? you might say. But these plants are hearty! They'll grow anywhere! You never have to tend them!
Yep. Don't care. I think they are weird and not terribly attractive. I kind of take issue with any flora that starts as a little plump mass and shoot flags into the air like Yosemite Sam's pistols, "Shoot!" But that's just my opinion.
So, I hope my Minnesota card isn't revoked because I have come clean with my dark little secret. If there are hostas in my yard, I dig them up and send them to hosta heaven...or anyone who wants them. There. I said. Now I feel better.
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