Ann and I got our little plot started the other week. We put down many plants and rows and rows of seeds. All sorts of lettuces and scallions and cucumbers and this and that and another thing. But as luck would have it – we have had desert like conditions for the past 10 days. Not a spot of rain and temperatures in the 90’s.
Watering is crucial.
The thing about that is. At our Community Garden there are many, many, many plots. And only one spigot. We gardeners need to be neighborly and patient and considerate about the hose.
And today, I was quite anxious about that, because I knew how desperately our little seedlings needed water. And that perhaps there were many other gardeners in the same predicament. I was so hoping to not have to wait too long to nourish our charges.
And. I was in a bit of a mood about it.
I suppose you might say, I was loaded for bear. Ready to overcome any obstacle in the way of my watering.
I crossed the lawn to the gardens with trepidation. There she was. My obstacle. Mrs Meanie. Recently arrived. Hose in hand. Readying to hook up…
No! Not a Sprinkler!
I approached her. Shotgun cocked. Teeth gritted. Mustering all my nice, “Hello Mrs. Meanie. How long do you plan on monopolizing the hose with that sprinkler attachment?”
“At least an hour.” She said down her nose. Meaning as long as the hell she wanted. “Go away,” She growled.
Not even bothering to look up. Knowing full well she was breaking all Community Garden etiquette with a sprinkler. On a crowded Sunday, during such a dry spell.
I took a deep breath. Paused. Turned and left to run some errands.
Returning 45 minutes later I felt a bit of relief. I didn’t see Mrs. Meanie’s silly hat floating anywhere about.
Until. Egads! Are you kidding? Mrs. Meanie was nearby my plot and had moved the sprinkler to some flowers planted under a shade tree.
I stood there. Truly flummoxed.
Mrs Meanie took note, “I’ve just started watering. Go away Short Young Lady!”
I held up my nozzle and pleaded, “Remember me? I was here awhile ago. Next in line. My plot is so dry. Everything will die if I don’t water…”
“Fine!” She spit. “Take it Silly Girl!”
And so I did. I unscrewed her sprinkler, expertly attached my nozzle. And happily watered away. Talking to my plants for Mean Lady to hear, “There you go tomatoes! So much better. Oh! Poor basil how the heat has wilted you! cucumber! Zucchini! Will you survive? Drink up this fine community water.”
I think she did hear. And I’m pretty sure Mean Lady Gardener has a soft spot for plants. (Certainly not for people.)
But here’s the moral. If you go Loaded for Bear. You will certainly find one.
I went on my errands and had a good talk with myself about that. Finally remembering. Everyone has a soft spot. Even bears.