Yesterday, after a trip to Key West failed to produce the results we planned on, we stopped and had lunch at Boondocks on Ramrod Key. There was a small art show going on. We made the rounds, chatted with one of our artist friends, Carol, and I picked up a fancy pair of beaded earrings made by an artist from Summerland Key. We sat, had lunch in the sunshine, and contemplated the rest of our day in light of the fact that daylight was running short, and our plans had ran amok. We both basically decided to essentially "bag it" for any other big plans, go home, relax and do better tomorrow.
I woke up today and flipped on the news. It was NOT good. Why do I torture myself so early in the morning with that stuff? I got up, put my fancy new earrings on, had coffee, read the paper, and did the breakfast thing. After that, I went to visit Pop, and brought a cookie delivery to the Good Food Conspiracy here on Big Pine. Had a brief visit with Katy and Ruby at Good Food, and headed back here. It was still early, probably not even noon. I decided I was in dire need of bonding with nature, so it would be a garden day. I obviously forgot that I really do not belong in the garden for any extended period of time....
First thing we did was plant our "Sue" plants on the dune. Mr. Happy Vegan put one in a cage, and left the other exposed, hoping for the best with the Key deer. So far, so good. They sniffed, but didn't eat. It was time to get down to serious business as I purchased about 1 dozen plants at the show last weekend, but hadn't planted them. I am most excited about my 2 new frangipanis. I selected the "celandine" variety, they are yellow and the fragrance is very lemony. Divine. I've wanted frangipani since moving here, but for some reason they seemed complicated. The master gardeners at the show swore up and down they're not complicated at all. I jammed each plant into a container filled with dirt, and set them on my side deck. Allegedly they are going to love the sun, and won't mind wind, salt or drought conditions. Sue had a frangipani, maybe even more than one. I distinctly remember 1 particular plant, and especially remember the blooms she gave me to float in water. They were magnificent.
Now that the easy stuff was done, I had to get to work in earnest. After dousing myself head to toe in bug spray, I began moving concrete planters, lugging things up and down stairs, pulling weeds from neglected pots, doing battle with thorny bromeliads, and figuring out what to plant where. This is when things began to "go bad." I discovered a snail. He was huge, I swear it. Not only that, he had foot long fangs, and they were dripping blood (not really, but may as well have been). I took him with my little shovel and placed him one of the 2 newly purchased snail plants from last weekend. He seemed happy, and stuck on the leaf. I soldiered on. As I began turning dirt in a large pot, out jumped a frog. Seriously. A frog. He was buried in the dirt. Why was he there? How could he breathe under all that dirt? I have no idea, but I do know he leaped out at me with claws blazing. Shovel went flying. Dirt everywhere. I'm hollering, running and feeling foolish. I go back to the pot, and try again. This time I turn over another giant snail. Onto the shovel, over to the special plant, back to the pot. I look over to the food garden and take note of two small raccoons who have pilfered one of my papayas off the tree. They're in a corner, snacking and actually appeared to be giggling as they watched me. I'm beginning to remember why I do not belong in the garden.
Throughout the course of the next couple hours, I gingerly tip both full and empty planters checking to ensure nothing was there to jump & attack me. I learned long ago to never, never, never, never, NEVER just lift up any planter in the Keys. Always, always, always, always, ALWAYS tip any planters before lifting... this gives whatever may be living under there a chance to scurry away instead of leaping onto my face. I found about 15 more snails of varying sizes, at least 6 more frogs, giant wasps living in a birdhouse, and the biggest bee I've ever seen dive bombing me repeatedly. As time continued to pass, all I could think that's missing is "snake, a snake is definitely next on the list."
Nothing bit me. I survived the scrapings of the evil bromeliads, the snails were expatriated to the swamp and I removed any composting leaves I could find as well as any other things more snails may be attracted to. The frogs hopped off to their happier places, and I never saw a snake today (nor any of those farking giant centipedes, thank you Universe). Still... I am done with gardening for a while. Things jump, slither, buzz, dive and crawl in there. It is THEIR domain, not mine. I got all the planting done, cleaned up lots of clutter and dead stuff, removed some broken objects, and began a rather complicated art project as well. I am going to stick with the art, and let nature take its course in the part of Deer Run called "the garden." I'm done. Nature wins again. Yes, I'm in awe of nature, but much more so when I'm not digging in the dirt. When I dig, I just don't belong. Even if I'm wearing my fancy earrings.
I woke up today and flipped on the news. It was NOT good. Why do I torture myself so early in the morning with that stuff? I got up, put my fancy new earrings on, had coffee, read the paper, and did the breakfast thing. After that, I went to visit Pop, and brought a cookie delivery to the Good Food Conspiracy here on Big Pine. Had a brief visit with Katy and Ruby at Good Food, and headed back here. It was still early, probably not even noon. I decided I was in dire need of bonding with nature, so it would be a garden day. I obviously forgot that I really do not belong in the garden for any extended period of time....
First thing we did was plant our "Sue" plants on the dune. Mr. Happy Vegan put one in a cage, and left the other exposed, hoping for the best with the Key deer. So far, so good. They sniffed, but didn't eat. It was time to get down to serious business as I purchased about 1 dozen plants at the show last weekend, but hadn't planted them. I am most excited about my 2 new frangipanis. I selected the "celandine" variety, they are yellow and the fragrance is very lemony. Divine. I've wanted frangipani since moving here, but for some reason they seemed complicated. The master gardeners at the show swore up and down they're not complicated at all. I jammed each plant into a container filled with dirt, and set them on my side deck. Allegedly they are going to love the sun, and won't mind wind, salt or drought conditions. Sue had a frangipani, maybe even more than one. I distinctly remember 1 particular plant, and especially remember the blooms she gave me to float in water. They were magnificent.
Now that the easy stuff was done, I had to get to work in earnest. After dousing myself head to toe in bug spray, I began moving concrete planters, lugging things up and down stairs, pulling weeds from neglected pots, doing battle with thorny bromeliads, and figuring out what to plant where. This is when things began to "go bad." I discovered a snail. He was huge, I swear it. Not only that, he had foot long fangs, and they were dripping blood (not really, but may as well have been). I took him with my little shovel and placed him one of the 2 newly purchased snail plants from last weekend. He seemed happy, and stuck on the leaf. I soldiered on. As I began turning dirt in a large pot, out jumped a frog. Seriously. A frog. He was buried in the dirt. Why was he there? How could he breathe under all that dirt? I have no idea, but I do know he leaped out at me with claws blazing. Shovel went flying. Dirt everywhere. I'm hollering, running and feeling foolish. I go back to the pot, and try again. This time I turn over another giant snail. Onto the shovel, over to the special plant, back to the pot. I look over to the food garden and take note of two small raccoons who have pilfered one of my papayas off the tree. They're in a corner, snacking and actually appeared to be giggling as they watched me. I'm beginning to remember why I do not belong in the garden.
Throughout the course of the next couple hours, I gingerly tip both full and empty planters checking to ensure nothing was there to jump & attack me. I learned long ago to never, never, never, never, NEVER just lift up any planter in the Keys. Always, always, always, always, ALWAYS tip any planters before lifting... this gives whatever may be living under there a chance to scurry away instead of leaping onto my face. I found about 15 more snails of varying sizes, at least 6 more frogs, giant wasps living in a birdhouse, and the biggest bee I've ever seen dive bombing me repeatedly. As time continued to pass, all I could think that's missing is "snake, a snake is definitely next on the list."
Nothing bit me. I survived the scrapings of the evil bromeliads, the snails were expatriated to the swamp and I removed any composting leaves I could find as well as any other things more snails may be attracted to. The frogs hopped off to their happier places, and I never saw a snake today (nor any of those farking giant centipedes, thank you Universe). Still... I am done with gardening for a while. Things jump, slither, buzz, dive and crawl in there. It is THEIR domain, not mine. I got all the planting done, cleaned up lots of clutter and dead stuff, removed some broken objects, and began a rather complicated art project as well. I am going to stick with the art, and let nature take its course in the part of Deer Run called "the garden." I'm done. Nature wins again. Yes, I'm in awe of nature, but much more so when I'm not digging in the dirt. When I dig, I just don't belong. Even if I'm wearing my fancy earrings.
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