This morning, I’ve discovered something critically important about myself.
I think I hate gardening.
This revelation has been a long time coming, and it goes against pretty much everything I’ve always wanted to think about myself. I always hoped I’d be one of those people who could magically nurture budding little bits of natural beauty out of the earth, turning mud into magic. When I was young I had a vision of myself as a grownup serenely digging away in my yard that was interesting because it was filled with lovely flowers and welcoming because there were so many things growing there.
Well, now I’m a grownup (sort of) and I have a yard and there are many things growing there. They’re called weeds. And today as I went out to do a little bit of work I found myself getting angrier and angrier and angrier. I was clenching my jaw, grinding my teeth, and cursing like a drunken pissed-off sailor. I became absolutely furious that these weeds had the audacity to take over my yard, choking out the perennials that the previous owner (who was CLEARLY a gardening guru. I hate her.) had left behind. It was so chaotic, so disorderly, so out of control – these weeds are EVERYWHERE and they were not giving up their hold on life easily. I was getting so mad, I swear, I almost gave myself a stroke. So, I threw down my shears, cursed a bit more at the bindweed that is choking my hostas and rose bushes, hoping that my articulate and clearly shouted verbal hex would work like an herbicide, and I went inside. Fifteen minutes had passed.
Now, even I think this sounds a little bit crazy. Who gets pissed at weeds? Am I really mad at the weeds, or frustrated by the feeling that a lot of things in my life seem out of control right now? Somebody (and I can’t remember who – sorry guys) was recently blogging about transference — they were worried or angry about something huge and so focused it on something trivial, over which they had complete control. I think that something may be going on here, but I can’t for the life of me figure out what I’m really mad at. It does seem a bit irrational to be so frustrated about mere weeds. And, clearly, I don’t have much control over them. I dunno. Any suggestions on what Stewgad is transferring would, of course, be welcome. But, for the rest of the day, I’m going have to conclude that gardening is just not my bag, baby.