Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Planting Season

My mother has always loved working in the yard.  She used to try to get me out there to work with her.  Actually, as I remember it, she used to try to get me to pull the weeds.  And when I say "used to try and get me to", I mean she took away every privilege I had and everything I enjoyed doing until I got out there and made that bark sparkle.  I'm pretty sure there was a whip-crack and the threat of a summer afternoon spent wandering the aisles of the nursery involved.

Okay....maybe not.  But she did want me out there (much like she always wanted me to get up at the crack of dawn on Thanksgiving and help her stuff the turkey...but that's an entirely different therapy session....I'm getting off track.)

I didn't like working in the yard.  I didn't want to pick up leaves.  I didn't want to rake things.  And I didn't want to run into a worm or a spider or something.  The only thing I wanted to do outside was lay around the pool and play tennis and stuff.

She's laughing now at the irony of all of this.  Because, yes, now I have a yard and a garden and plants and flower beds that all require attention, especially after two seasons of completely ignoring it in favor of the sand and surf.  And, no matter how many times I've begged her, pleaded with her, promised to be her best friend, she won't come over to my house and take care of it for me.

Some passing the torch, time to be the mom, take care of yourself nonsense.  Whatever...

Fine.  I'll do it myself.  Now, where are those kids?

My son told me that he would take care of any large worms or bugs.  The catch on that was, he would determine the definition of large only after seeing it for himself.  So, when I called him over to get this thing that's crawling across my boot, he would drive his Tonka over, take a gander and then say,

"Whoa!  That's really big!  I'm not touchin' that!"...Nice.

Ever the helper, the Little Miss then consoled my creepy-crawly-infested nightmare, by saying that if there were any baby ones or ones that weren't really moving, she would take care of them for me.  Of course, it took her five minutes to do one because she had to fawn over how cute it was before she could pick it up.

And the chicks were no help at all.  They offered to eat the worms, but only if I served them on a platter.  Typical....

It took us a bit, and I did have to threaten to take away every privilege they had and everything that they enjoyed doing, but they did get out there and help me.  My six-herb garden spot is now planted and growing. 

It is rather beautiful, I must say.  The sauce that will be made with those green lovelies will be delicioso good.  If only I had some tomatoes...and zuchinni...and peppers...and potatoes...and corn....and beans...and peas....

...Oh!  And sunflowers for the table!

And pumpkins for dessert!

Wait...where did the kids go?

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