Of course, it was the wholesome food growing in buckets. This is America, after all, where food doesn't come from farms and gardens and dirt. Instead, it comes from store freezer shelves (frequently in prepackaged meal forms) or fast food joints.
As I posted the other day, I was able to work a compromise with the manager, in that she'd let me keep the gardens, but the buckets had to disappear and the bricks that I had forming a border on the lot (that I would be able to pick up and move for the winter and when we moved, making minimal long term impact on the property) would have to be inlaid into the ground where they would then remain probably forever.
I can now report that all tasks given to me, including the ones the contractor needed done, have been completed. Missions accomplished!
My dad built (edited to add: the "planters" for me (really, more of a facade, since they don't have a back) out of reclaimed wood.
So right now, I'm right back where I was Wednesday morning, trying to get the weeds under control in the border garden, what I was doing when the manager came up to me that day.