Some people are natural born gardeners. They love the feel of soil in their hands and spend hours outdoors lovingly planting, weeding and cultivating their gardens. Then there are people like me. I love a pretty garden as much as anyone, however, it's the hours outdoors tending to the gardens that I find increasingly more distasteful. Now don't get me wrong, I like picking out flowers and planting them and I even enjoy the planning process of a new garden. It's the constant upkeep I seem to have the most trouble with.
Just a couple of weeks ago, I was sitting outside talking to my son and gazing out into our backyard. I have already given up tackling the garden by the pool house since the Mother of all weeds insists on overtaking the area despite my best efforts. Besides, I found out the hard way that I was highly allergic to something in that garden and spent several itchy, oozing weeks recovering from our last encounter. So, completely ignoring the pool house area, I slowly looked around at the fish pond garden and the sidewalk garden. Granted I don't weed on a weekly basis, but where the heck did all those tall, nasty looking weeds come from. I could have sworn that just days before none of them had reared their ugly heads so someone, somehow, must have planted them there when I wasn't looking. OK, OK, maybe they were there all the time and I just chose to overlook them but in any case, now that I had noticed them I couldn't pretend they weren't there.
As Monday, my only day off during the week, dawned sunny and relatively cooler than the normal for this time of year, I resolutely headed out to deal with the weeds. Armed with all the modern gardening tools, hands gloved for protection, I decided to attack the sidewalk garden first. As I stood surveying the area, I wondered what had happened to the flowers that I was almost sure I had planted just a couple of months ago. Deciding there was no easy way around it, I attacked the first clump of grass and began yanking with all the enthusiasm I could muster. I've never understood how grass can grow so well in a flower garden without having been purposely planted there. I dug and tugged and swore for several hours, stopping only for a few gulps of cold water and to wipe the sweat from my brow. After what seemed an eternity, I stepped back to check my progress. Thinking I surely must have covered the majority of the garden, I was astonished to realize that I had barely covered the first two feet. And worst of all, I was pretty certain I could already see the beginnings of the newest crop of weeds trying to poke through.
With renewed vigor I continued on to finish not only the sidewalk garden but the fish pond garden as well. I had some thoughts of doing the front gardens but as Clint Eastwood says "You've got to know your limitations". Knowing my limitations, I called it a day and went in to enjoy a cooling, refreshing shower and wash the weed residue off my skin. Sitting on our deck that evening, I was proud of my day's work and certain I had survived untouched. Yeah, sure.
Barely twenty-four hours later, the first itchy bumps appeared on my right arm, followed by one large, oozing blister. Not too bad what with all the weeds I had pulled but none the less a little disconcerting since I hadn't touched anything I hadn't pulled a million times before. Just to be on the safe side, I immediately jumped into the jacuzzi, followed by another vigorous shower in an effort to completely wash away any remnants of weed resin. I have always read that allergic reactions to plants come from contact with the plant resin and once washed away, the allergic reaction will not be spread by the water from the blisters. Well, either those people are wrong or I am a medical anomaly because once that blister started ooozing, more and more itchy bumps appeared until I, once again, looked like I had been in a cat fight and the cat won!
After two weeks of itching, oozing and explaining my obvious wounds to everyone who noticed, I have planted something new in my garden. Looking out into my backyard you will see a white flag prominently placed for all the Weed Witches to see. I surrender!! I have finally concluded that not only am I allergic to some weeds, I am also allergic to the act of weeding. Just the thought of putting on gardening gloves makes my skin begin to prickle. So perhaps I'll just cautiously trim the large clumps of weeds that have already grown in place of their relatives I so casually pulled out. Animal shapes would be nice...maybe a rabbit or a turtle. Or just maybe I'll take my husband's approach to weeding. Now where did he put that Weed Whacker?