tcsa

Flora and Fondle

Despite the fact that I have killed more vegetation than Agent Orange, I trotted blithely over to the Home Depot nursery and bought plants.
They didn't even ask me if I had a record, the fools.

We have a dirt patch in front of the house that is the designated alleged "flower bed." If you were to ask the contractors, they'd say "Oh, that? That's the flower bed." If you were to ask the actual construction workers, they would have said "Oh, that? That's where we're dumping the leftover concrete, nails, drywall chunks, and assorted building crap."
And yet there I was, crouched in the midst of it at 6:00AM yesterday morning, bending my trowely thing in attempts to punch through the rubble to make a hole big enough for my lovely doomed plants. I chipped away, bit by bit, microbe by microbe, until I had a semi-hole scrapped in the clay/concrete/crap. I piled in some nice SuperGrowingMiracleOhMyGodLadyIt'sOnSaleQuitAskingMeQuestionsAndBuyItAlready topsoil/fertilizer combo goop and plopped in the hole.
Lather, rinse, and repeat eight more times. By the time I finished, I was zonked. My back and legs had ceased to acknowledge me. General Grievous was tap-dancing in my spine. I rested on my cool green lawn, crouched peasant-style because the fear of sitting on an unseen bug will keep one a-hover.
And then the sprinklers kicked on.
This house comes with those timer-rigged sprinkler systems guaranteed to send everyone on the Water Commission's children to a good college. They run three times a day, due to it being a New Lawn, and they POP up out of the ground and begin spitting like a groundhoggy whore with a mouthful.
I was crouched, as it turned out, directly over one of the sprinkler heads.
Yes, I was lawn-douched.
And after the first minute or so, I gotta tell you.... it felt kinda good.
Maybe there's something to this gardening thing after all.