Wednesday, June 5, 2013

I've Been Forced to Garden at Gunpoint

Gardens are pretty. They smell nice, too. And, I hear, they can be a lot of work.

I imagine my beautiful California home sprouted from the ground, the way it looks. It's completely covered in ivy, sweetly gated with white fences and flowers I've never before seen embellishing every corner available. I feel like I'm walking into the Secret Garden, brushing away the vines and blindly searching for the lock with my skeleton key - minus the sassy and obnoxious antagonist of the novel, as I have never resembled anything of the sort, whatsoever.

Despite having this beautiful garden at my enjoyment's disposal, there was a moment of panic moving in, realizing that I cannot take care of a garden. To my relief, the house, of course, comes with a gardener. He slips in and out every week, to keep our home alive.

I have never had a green thumb. In fact, I mostly kill plants that aren't fake, although that's happened too. My mother gave me a marigold once when I was very young. I kept it in a pot on my windowsill next to my bed. I thought about it all day long and would rush to come home to see it's progress. I imagine being delicate and responsible, but in reality, I'm sure my chubby kid fingers poked it to death and fed it too much water. It lasted 2 days. I think it drowned in my love.

Regardless, from then on, I decided that, although gardens are pretty, I'm not that about it. That was the case, at least, until Lucy came into my life.


Lucy digs. And apparently the gardener, nor landlord, appreciate this, leaving us with strict warning.

The first few weeks of living in California, I would be clad in my business casual attire and gardening at 6 am. Granted the extent of my gardening was mostly filling holes like I am in prison. The oddity of this situation is that when we first moved in, she would dig quite a bit. However, she has come to grow out of it mostly. Now, she only digs when Blake comes home. And, fortunately, Blake's home all summer.

So it was last night, at 10:30 pm, that Blake and I are out gardening. I'm sure the neighbors think we're vampires. We were both defeated and could only manage pleading looks to Lucy as she so majestically watched us, followed with harsh whispered curse words.

I felt like I was being held at gunpoint forced to garden in the middle of the night. A feeling that is not so easily accepted, as it's really weird.

If you don't hear from me in awhile, it's probably because the neighbors thought Blake and I were burying a body and are now in prison.

Thanks for soundin' down.

..........

A catechism ( /ˈkætəkɪzəm/; Ancient Greek: κατηχισμός from kata = "down" + echein = "to sound", literally "to sound down" (into the ears), is a summary or exposition of doctrine, traditionally used inChristian religious teaching from New Testament times to the present.[1] Catechisms are doctrinal manuals often in the form of questions followed by answers to be memorized, a format that has been used in non-religious or secular contexts as well.