I don’t want to talk about it.

What garden?  Did I say I was putting in a garden?  OH, all right.  I did say that.  Then that whole spider thing happened in the backyard and suddenly the plants on the deck in their disposable pots seemed safer on the deck than buried in the ground with the bad guys from the movie “Arachnophobia”.

small blog logoYesterday, Tom insisted that we were going to brave the spiders and put in at LEAST a few rows of something.  To get out of it, I said we didn’t own a hoe.   About an hour later he came back from the home improvement store with…a hoe.  So, I had to come up with a new excuse or prepare to give my life to the killer spiders in the name of the garden.

We decided to wait until late afternoon to start working in the garden so that the 82% humidity didn’t drown us while we were being eaten by spiders…or like Tom said…”It’s cooler in the evening”.  I was busy baking a vanilla cream cheese pound cake to eat with more fresh strawberries and Captain Whacker (Greg) was outside with the weed whacker, whacking the pants off of every weed on the property.  I was just putting the cake into the oven when I heard the lawn mower start.  Last week, when Greg mowed the lawn, he discovered the giant wolf spider invasion of our backyard which led to me screaming most of that evening and sprinkling diatomaceous earth on just about everything that didn’t move and several things that did move.  It had worked for the creepy crawlies in my coop, hopefully it would work on these 8 legged freaks who were probably planning their big summer reunion with me as the main course.  Greg had masterfully beaten the ones that we’d found last week with a large stick and then destroyed their holes with said stick while I screamed “DON’T PROVOKE THEM!!!!!!” and danced around the yard.  I haven’t been out there since.

After he finished mowing the lawn he came in and collapsed on the sofa.  As usual, he was flipping through his phone and mentioned that we had ANOTHER kind of spider living in the yard and this one was brown and furry and gave him a nasty look.  The holes that he had destroyed last weekend were all perfectly open again and in fact, looked a bit nicer and more perfectly round.  So he peered inside one of them again and took this picture.

spider grassThis is the hole that he filled in and destroyed last week.  Look how nicely it’s opened now and if you look very closely…you’ll see that there is a Carolina Wolf Spider just sitting in there waiting to kill one of us (we know they aren’t really killers…but in my book, spiders are just creepy and must be avoided, killed, or be otherwise annihilated in some other violent manner. That’s what they get for having so many legs and eyes).

So you can understand my reluctance to go and put my hands in the dirt in the garden when I KNOW that these crafty freaks are all just waiting below the surface licking their chops.

Here’s my current line of thinking.  If I plant tomatoes, I’m going to have to can them, I don’t own a canner and my grandmother told me they blow up all the time (this was in the 70’s that she dispensed that little pearl of wisdom along with “If you sit on the cold sidewalk, you’ll get worms”), I read an article in Good Housekeeping one time about a girl who almost died of botulism from canned garden vegetables and then there are all these SPIDERS lying in wait to kill us all and Emma would be an orphan because you KNOW she wouldn’t help in the garden.  She’d just find my twitchy spider-ridden carcass out among the cantaloupe plants and be scarred for life.

So, the reason the garden isn’t planted, is really for everyone’s safety.   I don’t want anyone to get cut by a flying can lid during the explosion or get botulism from my tasty canned sauce or to be the guest of honor at a spider dinner party that is planned for this week in the cantaloupe section of the garden and I don’t want Emma to have to rely on Xanax to make it through the fifth grade.

See?  Giving up my garden for the sake of safety for everyone.

That’s me.  I’m a giver.

4 thoughts on “I don’t want to talk about it.

  1. Your chickens would be delighted to hunt down and eat all those creepy – crawlies if they could just get at them 🙂 I have free-range hens who love the extra protein.

    • I have envisioned this huge chicken spider feast if I let them free range a bit…but I’ve also envisioned the attack of the fox family that lives close by in the woods. EEK!

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