Slice of Life Challenge Day 19
I think gardening is one of those things, like painting or writing, that can become a passion, but it must be in your blood first. Gardening did not get into my genes. I do not descend from farmers. That is my excuse and I am sticking to it. Gardening is just not for me.
Recently at a wordlab, we were asked to write a lie on a cute little 2×3 note decorated with a little sketch of a bee. Maybe the bee led me to think of this, but my lie was “I love gardening. The sensual feeling I get when digging comforts me.” Believable, right? We put our little lies in a hat and picked someone else’s lie to write about.
The irony of this dread of gardening is that I am surrounded by beauty. Luckily, we bought an older house that already had established landscaping. So when springs comes, I can cut bridal lace and azaleas from my yard. In the fall, we harvest satsumas. In the winter, camellias. But when summer comes, the growth is abundant. Weeds, weeds, and their nasty companions, wasps.
My daughter says maybe I should take a class. But can a class get into my blood and change me into someone who loves dirt and weeds and sweat? I don’t think so. Gardening is just not for me.
Reflections on the Teche 