Thursday, May 03, 2007
I did some gardening, for the first time since we moved into the house. Normally, my pot-bellied wife takes care of the garden, but now that her tummy is really ballooning at an alarming rate, she is physically unable to weed, mow and plant.
I’m not much of a wizard in the garden. When people say that I’ve got green fingers, they generally refer to my nose-cleaning habits, not my gardening skills. In fact, I couldn’t remember when was the last time that I took care of plants, apart from mowing the grass in the back yard. The tools I found in the shed looked vaguely familiar, but don’t ask me what you should use to weed the weeds or to trim the bushes. I decided on some claw-like implement on a long stick and what I recognised to be a common rake. Armed with these basic tools, I succeeded in loosening the weeds with the claw and then rake the together. Success was mine!
The many thistles were another matter. Our front garden was stuffed with thistles, in fact. You’re obliged to remove them as fast as possible, otherwise the police can come around and give you a warning, or even a ticket. Despite the enormous size of our thistles we never had any complaints. I figured out why, as I discovered the bodily remains of at least three police officers between the sharp spikes of the thorny plants. I had to rip them out with roots and all, otherwise they would grow back in an instant. Back-breaking work, but luckily I’m completely spineless as anyone who knows me can tell you.
When I was done gardening, our front garden looked like the lush green space that is the Skeleton Coast: an absolute desert. Apart from the odd green sprout that I identified as a real plant or flower between the jungle of weeds, and our rose bush, there was nothing left. The wind was blowing up the dust and tumbleweed rolled over and over.
Let no-one say I do a half-arsed job!