Since Wednesday morning, I’ve been plagued by vertigo (again). Just my luck that this week we had the most beautiful weather – sunny days and moderate temperatures – and I was unable to take advantage of it. After dosing with meclizine for three days, finally today I felt I could do more than lie in bed.
Green Girl’s question ‘What are you surrounded with?’ (my answer: weeds) spurred me to action. I yelled to the resident teens, “Who will help me weed the garden?” All the teens were wearing noise-cancelling headphones, a tactic they find useful when their parents ask them to do things. So I gathered my tools and went outside by myself.
|I am surrounded by weeds,|
|and more weeds.|
I like the thought of gardening and like the result of having pretty plants, but I do not like the effort required. I am afraid of the attack rabbits and gaboon viper snakes that surely lurk beneath the surface. Therefore, I am terrified of putting my hand in places like this:
|Evil and wicked things lurk here.|
Here we must take a side trip to visit my husband’s gardens. With absolutely no work on his part, here is his garden on the side of the house, weedless and abundant.
And here is his hanging tomato planter, bursting with healthy cherry tomatoes.
Back to my garden, which is on a steep hillside adjacent to The Widow Douglas’ property. Weeding this spot is difficult work, but it would bring joy to The Widow Douglas’ heart to not have to look at all those weeds every day. I stuck my hand in the dark places, fearlessly exposing the front door, in an Anthony Weiner-like manner, of the rabbit dwellings.
|Rabbit front door, exposed to the public|
After about 45 minutes I had finished a large swath of the hillside. There is still a lot of grass in there, but it isn’t tall grass, and isn’t visible to The Widow Douglas, so it doesn’t count.
|Why haven't my day lilies bloomed this year?|
It was then I saw that one of the gladiolus plants is pregnant. The gladiolus creates a terrific foliage every year, but rarely grows buds. When buds do form, the deer usually eat them before they bloom. This year, thanks to Cassi’s recommendation, I was ready. I have a full bottle of Liquid Fence and I’m not afraid to use it. Well, I am afraid to use it if there is a little breeze that will blow the spray back onto me. Liquid Fence has an interesting odor, something like wolf poop, or wet clothes that come back from camp and are forgotten at the bottom of the suitcase for a week. The first time I used it was a few weeks ago, to save my balloon flower plant. It worked, and caused the teenagers to notice the world around them. “What is that weird smell?” they asked, but then we went out for ice cream and they didn’t notice it any more.
Today I sprayed the Liquid Fence, and there was no breeze, hallelujah. I went and sprayed the balloon flower plant just for good measure. Now I have high hopes for no more vertigo and for the birth of gladiolus flowers. Perhaps I’ll name them Prince George.