Thug Garden

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Everyone who is even an occasional gardener knows that, inevitably, the garden fights back.  One goes into this with vague images of looking like Scarlet O’Hara surrounded by her delicately scented vale.  Then you run into the reality that the only scarlet is supplied by the bloody gash you have.

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Which of course brings us to yesterday.  My gardener, Z,  was here and we were standing in the middle of the yard discussing what is a weed and what is a fortuitous invader (the distinction can be difficult) when, all of a sudden, I was falling.  I assume I shifted my weight and the terrain, steep, rocky, and very uncertain of foot did the rest.  I have no real idea what started the whole thing; one minute I was upright, the next I was a small avalanche.

Anyway, once I fell I started to roll and bounce the rest of the way.  I came to rest wedged against a tree fern.  Never have I been so glad to see a tree fern.

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This is sort of how I landed, except a) it wasn’t on purpose and b) I certainly did not look that good.

Z was very concerned and helped me to my feet, which was no small task.  I was sort of between two beds and not terribly accessible, plus I was shaken.  And stirred.  In the words of Warren Zevon, the yard “really worked me over good … /Sort of like a Waring blender.”

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What a lovely garden accessory.

Fortunately, I was wearing long pants and along sleeved shirt, but I was still a bloody mess.  A collection of cuts and scratches and a couple of big-ish places where the top layer of skin was scraped back and all manner of garden debris shoved up under the remaining skin.  I was a mess.

Super Agent Fred was at hand, luckily, and able to help with the bandaging.  Fred is sort of living here now and I realized how nice it is to have someone beside the cat around during these crises.

Now, of course, the worse ache has dropped by. I woke up with the distinct impression that several Trolls had beaten me with their collection of hammers.  So I’m signing off now to go find the opiate and the valium and my bed.

Once again, the garden wins.

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Better even than Miss O’Hara

20 responses »

    • Especially here in California where the climate is so easy to grow things. I have all sorts of things that I didn’t buy that have blown into my yard and they’re all welcome.

      and thanks for the kind wishes.

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  1. Gardening? Hell…. when I live at the ancestral home, I had my fill of gardening. I now live in a condo place with all that shit done for us. I’m now just tanning my ass at the Raven pool, enjoying the last of the summer rays.

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    • My theory is that al the opiate I’ve been taking allowed me to just bounce gracefully along. I just went back up tot he scene of the crime and you can see, fairly clearly, the path my carcass made cartwheeling down off the hill.

      Like

  2. Oh, good grief. You’re as klutzy as a teenager. Next thing we know, you’ll break something trying to keep up with the go-go boys at your favorite dive bar. And then what will Saki do for household help?

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