Garden Fantasies

Aunt Rhody survived the storm.

She's a trooper. Buds all over the place.

Alright. I'm not going to beat around the proverbial bush, the last snow storm really messed up my garden. It's a disaster out there and I'm pissed.

It's bad, I tell you. The shade garden is seriously compromised because the beautiful dogwood branch that formed a ceiling that I've likened to the Sistine Chapel  is busted and broken. We're going to have to just cut her down, that poor old dogwood. And I'm telling you this, when the saw hits the trunk, it's going to feel like I'm slicing my off own leg. The maple over my deck might be hopelessly damaged, too. I can see it has a life-threatening split in one of her main branches. And besides that, I'm in agony about planning a new vegetable garden, knowing full well that That Fucking Deer is just going to come in and eat it all. So I've got some serious gardening issues here.

My inner-Meryl just wants so bad to have a garden like this!

The garden catalogs are arriving and piling up. I won't deny that I have been harboring some serious garden fantasies. I want to be Meryl Streep, complete with well-defined cheek bones and a makeup-free face trooping effortlessly through a weed-free vegetable garden, (you saw the movie "It's Complicated" with Alec Baldwin) plucking from the chard and the squashes and the tomatoes and the lettuces.

I want to wear a breezy white shift with a tie at the waist and a darling sun bonnet and wander aimlessly down perfect paths--Earth goddess like. I want an orchard with ripe fruit that glows from low-hanging branches. I want a grape arbor. I want built-in raised beds. I want colorful containers filled with basil and lavender and sage and parsley arranged artfully on the deck. I want day lilies at every turn.

Sigh. The Putterer