Dirty Jokes

If you read my blog, if you know me well, or even if you accidentally breathe near me, you know I love my garden. It’s a constant source of comfort, peace, and inspiration.

What you may not know is that, at times, it’s also like a slapstick episode of I Love Lucy. Oh, the comedy lurking in every spade of earth!

Take the past two days.

Yesterday I tried out the new gardener’s bench I was given for my recent birthday. Right side up it’s the ideal height for deadheading roses. Upside down it’s a knee pad with tall braces to help me get this creaky body back to a standing position.

There I was, cleaning last fall’s mulch away from the crown of a rosebush and contemplating the amazing review I would write about this magical bench. I leaned back on my heels and crunch! I suddenly didn’t need the tall braces to rise. Thorny canes on the bush behind me took care of that. My legs and my fanny made a perfect sandwich out of those lanky stalks. I’m thinking my product review should contain a warning that the package doesn’t.

Back-up mirror not included.

Undaunted by yesterday’s rear-ender, I was back in the garden this morning. Part of my early spring routine is to give each of my 40+ rosebushes a dose of special fertilizer. The brand I’ve been using for years comes in a large jug with a cap that requires you to squeeze and push down while you turn it.

This year, not even a month after my 65th birthday, I couldn’t get the blasted cap off. On about the third try, I started to mutter under my breath about the irony of putting childproof caps on a product that I’m pretty sure older adults use more than anyone else. I finally got it off, but my letter of indignant outrage is going to go something like this.

Hey, Fertilizer People! Is anybody home? If the pharmacy will put an easy open cap on prescription bottles for seniors, why can’t you make a cap for 65+ gardeners that doesn’t require the help of Superman to open? Superman being my grandchild, of course.

Sometimes ridiculous things don’t actually happen, but they play out in my head anyway. My musings typically start with near misses or what ifs and end with imaginary headlines.

Rose Enthusiast Blinded by Cane She Was Pruning: She didn’t see that one coming.

Local Woman Trips and Dies in Garden While Husband Watches TV: She somehow managed to dial his cell number, but he didn’t answer.

Early-Bird Gardener Mauled by Cheeky Cottontails: Morning is our time to play in the yard!

Of course, it wouldn’t be all bad if something completely ridiculous happened. Ridiculous stories go viral every day. It would make my little gardening blog an overnight sensation. It might even inspire an epic spoof on Saturday Night Live!

Move over, Lucy. Oh, cottontails! Come out, come out wherever you are!