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You Could Have Asked

POSTED May 10, 2011 10:12 p.m.

Dear Editor,

One of the good things about life for me here in Oakdale has been the wonderful pleasure of owning a large property to transform, to landscape, and to love. In 12 years, we have planted over 30 trees, and two dozen rose trees and bushes on our lot.

On Saturday, Aril 30, we returned home early in the evening after celebrating a grandson’s birthday to learn that a thief had hand-clipped all of our newly-opened long-stemmed beautiful red Abe Lincoln roses while we were away. This person trespassed onto our property, equipped with hand clippers, and in broad daylight stripped four trees of all except the completely opened blossoms that were already losing or had lost most of their petals. Thanks to a neighbor, we believe that we can identify this person, having a car model, license plate number, and a physical description. Her beautiful, large bouquet robbed me of the fruits of my labor: buying the trees, planting them (in organic soil), watering, feeding, staking, and left me without the prospect of harvesting my roses to take to my ailing 94-year-old mother.

The police were notified, but clearly this is something that they can do nothing about. I can hear people say, “There will be more (rose blossoms)” and fortunately, there will be more. But thievery and mischief are not new here at our home. Passersby try to pick roses by hand and rip branches on the plants. Freesia has been pulled out of the ground and left to die. Two large, beautiful pots, newly-designed and planted, were stolen from in front of my house; the plants had been chosen and arranged with great care and love. Perhaps our most recent thief is that same person who committed the prior theft.

I do not understand theft. The purloined item(s) will be there to remind the person that she has questionable moral principles.

On many occasions, people have commented on the beauty of our roses, and I have happily clipped some to give to them. Stealing is such a despicable act, especially when the roses would have been offered if asked.

Sadly,

Annette Hutton

Hutton’s Hamlet

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