Friday, August 3, 2012

Gardening Hecklers

When I weed the landscaping in front of the gallery I have to be in the right mood to be subjected to "the public" and their need to comment/heckle/cat call/whistle/provide advice/rev their motorcycle engine two feet from my head.  I usually save this task for Mondays when it's quiet in town, but found myself there this afternoon, busting it to catch up on a lost month of weeding in preparation for the gallery opening this Saturday.

I'm a talker, an extrovert.  I generally like people.  I really like talking to people about their gardens and learning from others experience, and soak up the compliments I get on how beautiful the flowers are.  But there is something about this street-side gardening dynamic that brings out bizarre interactions better avoided.

Here is a synopsis of the commentary that came my way this afternoon from passerby's while wrestling down thistles and pulling out spent poppies.  I typically smile and remain silent with my internal voice saying, "if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all" and keep all  witty and profane responses to myself.  Here's what that inner voice had to say today:

"Can you come do that at my house?" (this is the most common comment)  No.  Do it yourself.  It's good for you.

"Have you tried, round-up/boiling water/vinegar to kill those weeds?"  No.  I pull my weeds by hand.  It works.  

"You know you could pay a (insert racial slur here) to do that."  Really?  Did you really just say that? 

"All that effort and you don't even have any vegetables planted."  Huh.  Do you have your vegetable garden planted where bar patrons and rogue dogs regularly vomit and urinate?  (truth, I said this one out loud).

 "Hey peasant wife." (at least it was my husband who said this while driving by)  

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