the miserable gardener

A favorite line from H. Allen Smith’s How To Write Without Knowing Nothing. I could use a haircut, though; I look like a dandelion gone to seed, or at least I feel like one.

Coming back from our morning walk, before the garden is opened for visitors, what’s the first thing I see? Weeds, of course. They must have sprung up overnight. Now, if I pulled them, no one would notice that they were there in the first place, so how could I say something like “Look at this area that was filled with weeds and now isn’t” without sounding like a complete weirdo?

In truth, I don’t care as much about weeds as I pretend to. I do care about contemplating piles of junk, and after the recent construction here, that’s what I have. A small one, to be sure, but still a pile of junk I have to do something about. A pile of junk that will be the first thing people see when they come into the back yard.

Wait. I know, I’ll call it something. Still life, with wood and steel. Perfect.

It’s for sale, too.