Captured by Pirates•

Hubris, I haz it.

My gardens were progressing happily along; lots of sunshine, plenty of butterflies, and only a few weeds. I had sprayed my stinky “Stay the Heck Out of My Garden Spray” on its monthly basis, all was beautiful and blooming.

No need to go to the trouble of stringing all the hose, checking the batteries and water shooting range on the Scare Crow sprinklers and setting them out each evening, I thought. I have seen nary a hide nor hair—nor tell-tell dropping—of an elk since spring. Maybe they’ve decided to go away, leave me alone, or eat only scotch broom and dandelions! (Wouldn’t that be nice!) And it’s just as well, really. With all this heat I’ve been preoccupied with using my hoses for hydration, not perimeter defense. La-la-la, look-- more butterflies!

Alas. Sue’s giddy Garden of Eden was riddled with four-footed serpents. (Thinking of elk as the spawn of Satan just feels right, doesn’t it?) First they attacked the straw bale garden. Rats, but no big worries. After all, I hadn’t sprayed the stinky spray on the vegetables—I wouldn’t want to eat them then, either. So I broke out my first Scare Crow, dug out my batteries and continued on in my pretty rainbow-colored haze of denial.

.

Evil on the hoof

Imagine my surprise the next morning to see the stems of flowers and uprooted plants of multiple beds decorating my lawn. What?! How? But!!!

So I’ve spent the last couple of days dragging garden hoses, figuring out angle that insure the best coverage, plotting the terrain of my counter attack, using every weapon in my arsenal--------- “magic” words included.

When it comes to battling nature, I have discovered—over and over—that I need to use every tool, trick and technique available.

Stupid elk.

*title my homage to The Princess Bride, The Best Movie EVER in the history of movies.

Drink More Water

I was telling a new friend about my writing here at Garden Gate and she was suitably impressed--as any good friend would naturally be--and inquired as to my qualifications as a gardening guru. Was I a master gardener, did I have multiple degrees in botany and horticulture? Did I have to spend hours of research to answer reader’s questions?

 Nope, I said, just years of experience in trial and error.

She raised her eyebrows a little at this.

 Having at least two opinions on any given subject make me highly qualified, I hastened to assure her. That, and the ability to ramble on about it for 280 words, plus a strong abhorrence to pesky elk and I am the perfect person to offer advice.

In grief, just as in gardening,
I am learning that proper hydration can make a big difference.
 I drink plenty of water (or iced tea) and I go on.

As we travel through life we gain Life Experience; books, observation, hands on experience, success and failure all have a role in teaching us what we need to know.

It is said that when the student is ready the teacher will appear. I have been blessed to have had many good teachers in my life who have shown me how to construct a sturdy sentence, how to plant a garden, how to walk a difficult path. These teachers have been both gentle and generous with their instruction.

These days I am finding guidance from those who have dealt with loss and walked through fire to come out the other side--and just as with gardening tips--they share what they have learned along the way. It is a club nobody wants to join, but somehow support from fellow members makes it possible to survive. Love lifts us up, and we in turn lift others. We share our hard earned knowledge, we survive, and eventually we thrive.