Some while ago I made this little mixed-media wall piece that I think still represents my style of gardening pretty well. I am the virtual avatar of all things bumbling and ignorant and serendipitous and goofy when loosed upon the back forty. Off I go on a ramble, grabbing what is decidedly a weed but managing to yank out a perfectly healthy portion of the adjacent flowering or fruiting plant in the same fistful, backing away sheepishly only to go stepping sideways in a hole, twist over onto my elbows and land face to face with a giant unidentified insect that clearly thinks I have arrived not just to gape at it but to invite it into my open mouth. Gnashing my teeth shut like a portcullis in the event, I bite the inside of my cheek, rocket upward and hop around on my one un-twisted foot, brandishing my shabby bouquet of mismatched greenery at the bug as it whizzes away, dancing around as spasmodically as a broken marionette, and muttering imprecations not appropriate for any sort of garden party under my gasps of breath. Meanwhile, the beetling object has settled quite contentedly on a nearby pristine piece of fruit and begun munching it to smithereens placidly, not needing to bother degrading the bit of fruit I’d already accidentally killed.
And yet despite incidents very like this occurring on a regular basis in my peregrinations through the green world, somehow I usually end up mistress of quite the cozy and inviting little patch of paradise. I’m fairly certain that I have something very near to the best karma in the universe–the finest possible friends and family, fabulous adventures wherever I go, and by golly, I keep finding pretty things in my gardens no matter how boorish and buffoonish I manage to be as a gardener. I shall neither apologize nor excuse such unwarranted, unearned good fortune. There’s nothing I can do that would explain why, when I consistently do exactly what the garden experts say will Never Work, it consistently rewards me with much lovelier results than I could possibly deserve, and frankly, I’m glad to just wallow in my happiness.
So come on over for a nice sweet tea under the shade of one of my many marvelous trees, gazing upon the phantasmagorical collection of improbably, ridiculously happy plants that really shouldn’t be thriving so, and we’ll just pretend I’ve done all of this by virtue of my hard work and genius. No, it’s not a flourishing haven and (in Realtor-Speak) a Park-like Setting quite yet, but in my blustering, blundering innocence I always believe that soon it will be. And I betcha it will, too.
Art-Colored Glasses 
I, too, refer to my vast property holdings as the “back forty” despite there being barely 40 sq ft to work with. And it is the arachnids — a particularly ugly, reddish brown variety — that keep me from getting in there on hand and knee. More than once they’ve seemingly mounted an attack, heading straight for me rather than running away like their more polite relatives. Then again, maybe they aren’t so offensive as they are loving of slapstick. Seeing me, bum leg and all, scrambling to get up and out of their way must give them all something to laugh about back at the web.
And we all know that those arachnids have their own version of the World Wide Web!!! They’re scheming behind our backs constantly, them thar li’l critters! Meanwhile, back here in Texas, I’m told that thanks to the mild weather and the multitudes of buggy fellers thriving as a result, we are inundated with snakes. A landscaper friend tells me his crew actually had to leave a job recently because the copperhead infestation was so numerous and active that they had to call in exterminators on the property before any work could progress. Hey, shall I send you some nice little rattler babies or copperheads to eat all your spiders?!
What? No gila monsters?
So, you know the secret, too?
People see my gardens, and exclaim,”You’re so TALENTED!”
Truth? I’m just really, really lucky…and the Faeries must like me. 😉
The perfect combination, dearest! Long may we reign! 😀
Mmm, yes. I too fall like Goofy over the sides of the garden box, invariably into a pile of compost or onto a particularly robust bug. It’s therapy, really. I’m one of those over-serious people who worries too much, thinks too hard, and stresses about the kinds of things rational people say we can never change. Finding oneself covered in mud is uplifting in a humbling, hilarious way. And when something beautiful grows up out of it? Well, I personally can’t think of a better definition for joy 🙂
Now, all I could add to this is the possibility of the two of us someday gardening Goofy style *together*! Surely it would have to be filmed for documentary purposes. Or at least for one of those Funniest Home Videos compilations. 😀
Marvellous! I think you have both a gardening gene and a garden fairy 🙂
Or possibly, a fairy named Jeanne. 😉
I have enjoyed your blog, and I want to give you the Reader Appreciation Award on my latest post. Terri
Thank you, sweet Terri, I shall finally pop by and have a happy look! I do so enjoy my visits to your place every time.
xoxo
That is a really marvelous piece of art work there!
Why, thank you! I am so delighted you like it.
I love the way you describe your bumbling. So much fun.
Strictly almost-true, too! 😉
Of course, can also relate…’somehow I usually end up mistress of quite the cozy and inviting little patch of paradise.’
Loving nature usually…somehow…has it loving us back! Thanks for the welcome into your bumbling but beautiful world!
Bumbling is half the fun! 🙂