I think that one of the best things about having the "right" person in your life is no matter how cliched it sounds, the right person inspires you to be a better person yourself. Like most things, this turns out to be a double edged sword. Standing beside a really great person kind of highlights what a twit you are, yourself.
My partner, Rob, is one of the best people I know; one of the few real heroes in the story of my life. I say this not only because he is honest and funny and kind and generous, but also because he is flawed and knows he is flawed. We all are, of course, but some of us hate like hell to admit it.
Last night, we had an excellent dinner with good friends. (The dinner included homemade linguine and pesto, epi bread and fancy cheese, a raw broccoli and apple salad and gelato from the Italian place in Waterloo. It was fantastic.) After dinner, Rob told a story about riding his bike up to Paisley (a 7 hour trek) and having one incident on the road; a guy yelled, "Get off the road!" at him. Rob said, I tried to yell back, "Share it with me!" but what came out of my mouth was, "Fuck you, dick!"
Everybody laughed. It was a funny telling but what was really funny about it, is that Rob hardly ever swears like that. He is a very controlled person, and while he does swear occasionally, it is rarely in anger and even more rarely directed at anybody.
I, on the other hand, am quite a potty-mouth by comparison. I have to bite my tongue about a million times a day to keep from chewing out everyone who comes into contact with me and I fail regularly. And, as it turns out, I'm also less honest, less funny and certainly less generous than Rob. (They say you shouldn't compare yourself to others, but really, who can help it?) And if I hadn't met Rob, I might never have figured out that I'm not quite as great as I thought I was; I used to think of myself as really honest and quite funny, and at least somewhat generous. (Umm... fail...)
So I'm writing this because I'm trying to get up my nerve to go to my community garden. I'm afraid to go there because I haven't been in a while and I'm pretty sure that it's out of control by now. Specifically, I'm afraid of my tomato plants, although the prospect of the weeds and my "bush" beans is also alarming. But, look at me, I'm going to take a page from Rob's book and overcome my fears and do the right thing. I'm going to gather up some trellis and some twine and a trowel and I'm going to ride my bicycle over to the garden and I'm going to whip it into shape! Yes, I am! Just watch me!
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Three (3) hours later... did I mention that it's 27 degrees outside? With a humidex of 33? Did I mention that I'm a menopausal female? With a propensity to sweating? And cussing?
Well, anyway, I did it! And I'm back to tell the tale!
Now that I am seated calmly in front of a computer with a cool soda in hand, it seems less terrifying than it was but still... it was pretty bad. You may recall me bragging on how nice my garden looked earlier in the season and even how some of my neighbours' gardens at the community plot looked a little... well... *untended* by comparison. Well, I'm bragging no more. My plot is now second only to the group home's for sheer neglected chaos.
First of all, my best crop turns out to be purslane, which is EVERYWHERE. I actually brought a bag home, planning to eat it in revenge. My tomatoes have curiously decided to both mutate and mutiny. I neglected to be ruthless in my suckering and as a result, today I was forced to tie them up with yarn and hack off some of their limbs with a nail file. (I forgot a knife.) It pained me to do it but I can't have them acting like something out of "Little Shop of Horrors". Still, a few of them have elected to crawl across the path and lie down in my neighbour's garden. Fortunately, she is about 80, blind and very kind, so she might not object. I told them I'm coming back later with some serious bondage equipment but they only snickered.
My Tongue of Fire bush beans are finally blooming prettily but they are also sprawling around smothering things for no good reason. I put in a couple of bamboo stakes and some trellis for them to lean on. My neighbour across the main path planted purple bush beans and hers are very well behaved and are covered in small purple beans already. Another neighbour, Bill, planted scarlet runner beans (which I love) and they are already eating size. I'm envious. My pole beans are taller than I am, finally, and beginning, very shyly, to bloom but they are also looking much less robust than I would like. Bill's scarlet runners are looking very hale and hearty.
The rhubarb chard is finally big enough to harvest and I ripped off some chard stems which we'll eat tonight with the purslane. (I must remember to take a knife next time, if only to threaten the tomatoes.)
The nasturtiums are starting to bloom at last and I was able to pull out most of the remaining french breakfast radishes, thereby freeing up a little space for walking. The marigolds still look stunning, although some of them are now being shaded out by the tomatoes. My tomatillo continues to bloom madly but (unlike Michelle's) is not setting any fruit. (Why the hell not?)
Finally, I intended to take the camera with me to capture some of the joy and horror of the community garden, but in the end, I forgot it. So, for now, a photo of my better half will have to suffice.
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