Staying with the garden "theme" that I have going at the moment, I was thinking about why, no matter how hard I try to like it, I dislike gardening. I dislike yard work. And it's not because I'm lazy. (I swear!)
When I was growing up, we had a few decent sized gardens, for both flowers and vegetables. Strike that, my PARENTS had gardens. We were encouraged to help in the gardens - pull a few weeds, eat a few peas... You would think that those memories would evoke a certain amount of appreciation for gardening. But I all I can remember are these few incidents:
1. The tomato plants. I loooove tomatoes. They're delicious right out of the garden. My mom used to slice them for us, and we'd eat them with a little sprinkle of salt. However, one morning, someone else took a liking to fresh tomato, this guy:
A tomato horn worm! And all of his brothers and sisters. Nothing turns you off tomatoes faster than having to de-horn-worm tomato plants!
2. Digging in the garden with a hand trowel. There's no getting around having to dig around the plants in the garden (either to weed, or dig up potatoes, etc.). I don't have a problem with that, I guess. What I do have a problem with is this: no matter how careful you are, you will cut a worm in half. And both halves still move. If that's not disturbing to a 10 year old girl, I don't know what is. And, it's scarred me for life.
3. Mowing/raking grass. Now this story is fuzzy. Either I blacked out right then and there and lost some of the details, or I later blanked some of the details from my mind, so that I could live a fairly normal life. I was working in the front yard, and I'm pretty sure I was raking the grass cuttings, and I think I was in bare feet. Either way, here's what I'm getting at: I. STEPPED. ON. A. BABY. BIRD. And it "popped". Horrifying!
And, that's why I don't believe I'm lazy. I believe that I was traumatized in the garden as a child, and now it takes sheer determination for me to garden at all!
Today, in an effort to feel better about myself, and my obvious gardening phobia, I looked up "gardening horror stories" and "stupid gardening mistakes"... This story from another sight made me laugh, and cheered me up, so I thought I'd share it with you!
A tale of turnips, from www.gardenweb.com (IE. this is not my story):
My MIL had a big, beautiful garden on the side of a hill, and as her family was getting smaller, she offered me all the space I wanted. I planted a lot of vegetables, but the mistake I made was that I planted the whole packet of turnip (rutabaga) seeds. I had a row of turnip 50 feet long. I had the nicest crop of turnip you could imagine. There was only my husband and myself to eat them, but I know lots of people that like them, I could give some away.
When it came time to harvest them, I worked my heart out. I'd cut off the root and leaves, and fill the wheelbarrow, trot the wheelbarrow down the row and pile the turnips on the grass. I worked for hours!
Finally, I was done, I took the knife into the house and washed it off, and went back out to the garden to admire my turnips. I had a pile of turnips as tall as I am. I was almost up to this great pile when a few turnips at the bottom of the pile moved, the whole lot of them started rolling down the hill. I was chasing after them, I'd gather a few in my arms and when I'd reach for another the ones in my arms would get away and continue down the hill. I must have made quite a sight, because my brother-in-law was laughing at me. "You'd better catch them," he called, "They're going to wipe out the neighbor's house"!
Now, that's funny!
Got any gardening horror stories?