Madam Gardener

I decide to rake leaves in the back yard on a beautiful warm fall day.  (This year Cal and the neighbor decided to take down most of an old redbud  tree in the backyard.  One neighbor said he thought the tree would survive and the other neighbor said he thought it would die.)  The back yard is a mess of fallen redbud leaves and seed pods and twigs.

After filling four bags of leaves, humming happily to myself, I notice the yard again almost full  of leaves.  Squinting up at the trees, I realize that the other trees have not thrown down their leaves yet. We still need a hard frost.

I wander into my herb garden which has become tangled and is growing out of its brick pavers. It's a lovely thing.  The fennel smells like licorice and is as tall as I am. Rosemary, basil, sage, oregano, peppermint, dill, thyme and horseradish; it is a heady place.  Rub a leaf and go to heaven.

The horseradish is a massive plant and grows elephant leaves that shade out the parsley and chives and hides the peppermint.  We grow it for fun and every year I dig it up so that it won't get out of control the next year, but it always does.

Impulsively, I decide to dig up the horseradish.  I cut the leaves to get to the tubers that grow down deep in the clay soil.  I stain my hands with fresh greens and peppermint leaves.  A pleasant job so far.  The patio is soon piled with horseradish leaves and I fetch the shovel.  The tubers are long and take a little work.  Brushing off clumps of clay and dirt, I adjust my glasses on my nose. Streaks of dirt are now on my face and I push the leaves into the overfull bags of leaves.

I probably should call it good for today but I move on to my three tomato plants. The tomato vines are are dead and full of decaying tomatoes. I can't put those in the paper compost bags the city give us, and so I run into the house for garage bags.    I tug at the vines and rotten tomatoes spill and burst around me. Carefully, I pick up what looks likes like a solid tomato only to have my finger go through it. Yuck.  I try another.  This isn't working, so I  pull the vines into the plastic bag, decaying tomatoes and all, and just about reach the garage can when the bag springs a leak and rotten tomato juice runs down my leg.  Disgusted, I heave the heavy bag into the garbage can.  Splat.  I'd better remember to warn Cal that his garage can is full of drippy rotten tomato mess. I still have to pick the vine supports I left lying on the goopy ground.  I tip around the tomatoes the best I can and slide in the slippy slime and fall on my...rear.  That's it. I'm done.  I grab the sticks and throw the bags of leaves into the garage, the shovels and rakes and hedge trimmer into the potting shed.

The rest can wait until after frost.