Garden of Eatin' by Terry Lerdall-Fitterer
Hobbies generally help a person relax as they work toward a goal. Unfortunately a person's hobby may not help share that relaxing aura with others. For example, gardening as a hobby stressing out, versus relaxing, the spouse. Oh, heck, Terry tells it better in the following humorous story about her roto-tilling-plant-nurturing husband.
The last icicle hanging from my eaves had barely melted in it's entirety when out of the blue and from a distance not too far away, I heard, to my horror, the grinding sounds of…the Garden Tiller! I threw open the door to a wind chill of 80 below zero and screamed out to my husband, "Hey you! With the peanut for a brain… we just took the Christmas tree down last week!" Old MacDonald, in a panic-filled stupor decided that time was of the essence and took the plunge. The man is obsessed with his garden-nothing short of an earthquake will prevent him from mothering it and I think even then the ground could open up and suck him down into the bowels of hell and he'd still be clutching a can of Miracle Gro.
Planting the potatoes has become a religious experience for him in his old age. I'm even delegated to get into the act. He digs the hole, I throw the piece of potato into it. Pretty tough, huh?
And each day after they've been planted is a one of those Kodak moments. One night I found him down on hands and knees with a flashlight looking at each hill. Right…like he's going to see something growing just 2 days after he's planted it.
I actually think he believes photosynthesis is going to take place. I mentioned that maybe resurrecting a confessional out there might make a difference…he tossed that one around for several days. We nearly had to hold a wake for an onion one year after it bit the dust. A baby shrine made out of popsicle sticks is still there. ( I was threatened at trowel point to conjure up a headstone made out of Styrofoam and forced to paint the initials, R.I.P. on it.) That was the night he burned candles after midnight hoping the pale, scrawny thing would heal itself. (All professional faith healers refused to return his calls.)
But the real headaches don't start until the tomato plants emerge from the womb. God forbid a raindrop, bug or any foreign object touches one of their leaves. This is the time that I rarely ever see him. He holds daily and nightly vigils between the rows and until an actual tomato is hanging on a vine I just bring 3 meals and his toothbrush out to him.
One ominous afternoon while the tornado sirens were blasting, I found him out in the garden using his body as a makeshift shelter to protect his plants. I casually hinted that perhaps some form of therapy or drug was needed and he replied, "Don't be silly! Psychiatrists don't make house calls for tomato plants!"
Somehow I knew that was going to be a long summer.
About This Story's Author:
Terry Lerdall-Fitterer "Being as one is somewhat obligated to write a short biography of their colorful, glamorous and mind-boggling self, I would love more than anything to give you a most impressive one-but unfortunately, cannot. The reason being, I am a writer. One who is middle-aged, broke, searching for an editor who will appreciate my work and actually pay me for it, and still trying to figure out just who to schmooze to get my column in a newspaper- any newspaper!"
"I have been published in most of the small press, some newspapers, magazines, and am currently appearing in Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine with my humorous, murder poems. How sick is this?"
"Read, enjoy and most of all, don't hold my true, but dysfunctional lifestyle against me!"
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Inch by inch, row by row,
Gonna make this garden grow.
-- Dave Mallet The Garden Song slightly modified by Pete Seeger
Humor Is Relative thanks Cay Dickson, from the Houston Chronicle, for the compliment!
'If you want to be happy for a few hours, get drunk.
If you want to be happy for a few years, get a wife.
If you want to happy for ever, get a garden
-- Anonymous
Think you have a witty story about your family, or moment being a parent, that our readers will enjoy? Review Humor Is Relative submissions guidelines and submit your story! Who knows, we just may like it!
To own a bit of ground, to scratch it with a hoe, to
plant seeds, and watch the renewal of life--this is the commonest delight of the race, the most satisfactory
thing a man can do.
-- Charles Dudley Warner (1829-1900), My Summer in a Garden [1870]
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Gardening : What goes down, must come up.
-- Unattributed