I had some dreams ... they were klowns in my koffee.

(With apologies to Carly Simon)

This is my journey through job transition from a toxic environment to a better life. Join me for a few thoughts and a few laughs along the way.
What are "klowns in my koffee"? They are the factors large and small that make you less than you are. A "klown" can be a grossly incompetent boss,
a short-sighted policy or a moronic coworker. They won't kill you, at least not immediately, but they abrade the soul
as you scrape past them to get through the day. Sometimes it's best to dump them out of the cup.


Day 83 - Quite Kontrary, How Does Your Garden Grow?

We must cultivate our own garden. When man was put in the garden of Eden he was put there so that he should work, which proves that man was not born to rest. --Voltaire

Voltaire was onto something, though he possibly may not have had the assistance of an eight-year-old boy who alternated repeating the two phrases at twenty second intervals: 1) I don't want to do this and 2) When is this going to be DONE?

My son is not mindful of the story of The Little Red Hen and fully expects to benefit from the garden labor of others. We are intent on crushing that sense of entitlement.

On the subject of crushing, Princess Potatohead was initially rejecting of her garden chores with foot-stomping, five-year-old fury. Then she discovered cutworms and my hatred of them. If you haven't seen a cutworm, it is a dull, brown caterpillar that matures into a dull, shabby moth. In the interim, it crawls along the surface of the garden and shears off one stalk per night, burying itself next to the severed neck to sleep it off until the next day's vegetable decapitation. {Photo courtesy of Clemson University Extension}

Despite my green cred and desire to live in harmony with all living things, I bash the things whenever I find them. Princess Potatohead, observing the carnage or, more exactly, squishage, immediately volunteered for this task. I was initially pleased to have her contributing to the garden project but the process has taken a turn into late night movie territory. I summon her when weeding reveals a worm and she runs full throttle with the intensity of an IT department at a buffet. She scoops the hapless invertebrate into a trowel and marches with solemnity to a Stonehenge five inches high. She has been heard intoning evilly with a low-pitched growl, "Come here ... it's TIME." She dispatches the worm quickly with a rock and then jumps up and down on the rock. An innocent little face stares up and says, "Mommy, the best part of gardening is the killing." I guess I should get a job soon to save up for the therapy.

Other than the creepy implications of "Dead Worm Walking," the garden is starting to yield that most delightful variety of bounty -- nearly free food, if you don't count Voltaire's work. We are enjoying peas, onions and herbs now. Not all together. In time, there will be three kinds of tomatoes, eggplant, two kinds of peppers, cucumbers, squash, horseradish, brussels sprouts, green and red cabbage, carrots, chard, green beans, yellow beans, nasturtiums, sunflower seeds, kohlrabi, tomatillos, currents, apples, and enough zucchini to leave on neighbors doorsteps at midnight.

Garden Guides is a comprehensive site that I discovered recently and added to my favorites. Lots of good resources for beginning and veteran gardeners.

If you find a mysterious bag on your doorstep, it's only zucchini.


mom-in-law said...

Cudos to your innner mother nature. I applaud all your efforts. All I'm growing here is a healthy crop of weeds. I may need to borrow your garden crew!!

Burning Khrome said...

When you borrow Attila in August, he'll be fully trained. :-)

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