Rico's rants: Nature is a mother...

08 September 2013

Nature is a mother...

...and Lisa Scottoline has an article in The Philadelphia Inquirer about why:

I started gardening to get closer to Mother Nature, but now I hate Her. Perhaps hate is too strong a word. Let's just say that we're frenemies. Because it turns out that Mother Nature is the ultimate mean girl. Let me explain. A few weeks ago, I planted and mulched a large perennial garden, which took five days of hard labor and was worth every minute. I had no idea how much I would love this garden, which was lush, fragrant, and colorful, blooming with purple hyssop, blue plumbago, pink roses, yellow and pink coneflowers, black-eyed Susans, lavender, and daisies. You get the idea. It's pretty. I watered it with sprinklers, probably too often, and I took tons of photos of it, probably too many. It was like I had a new baby. I did everything but breast-feed it. Because of the bees. Ouchie. At night, I went out and watched the butterflies flutter to and fro. Bluebirds and wrens visited, and even two baby foxes came and tumbled around, adorably. I even took the time to smell the roses. Literally. They smelled great, and because the garden was right in front of my front door, its gentle fragrance wafted through the screen door. In other words, it was all rainbows and sunshine, like My Little Pony, but without the Pony. I emailed one of my friends a garden photo, and she replied: "What about the deer?" But I wasn't worried. I figured the deer were too busy eating the apples from my apple tree, so I figured they wouldn't bother my garden. Also, I always felt as if I had an understanding with the deer, since I like them and don't allow hunting at all. I even saved a fawn once, whom I named Fawn Hall. And I love Bambi. So you know where this is going. I woke up one morning, and my garden was green. But only green. No more rainbow, no more colors, no more sweetness and light. There were almost no flowers at all. I went outside in disbelief, and the garden consisted of leafy sticks. Deer had eaten most of the flowers. Okay, I should have known. But I didn't. When people complained about deer, I thought they were exaggerating. And my first impulse was to kill deer, as many as possible. (Just kidding.) Mother Nature 1, Scottoline 0. I calmed myself down, went to the store, and got a bottle of deer repellent made by a company called I Must Garden. I sprayed it on the stalks, not because I Must Garden, but because I Must Win. Or because I Am Smarter Than Deer. Or because I Worked Too Hard on This Stupid Garden to Stop Now. I never knew how deer repellent works and figured it was some mysterious alchemical mixture. Wrong again, rookie. I read the label and learned that it was "all natural", made of: "Putrescent whole egg solids, garlic, clove oil, and white pepper." In other words, now I have a garden of green stalks that smells like garbage, topped with Caesar dressing. No more lovely floral fragrance wafting into the house. I closed the door and dead-bolted it to keep out the stench. I may duct-tape the windows. Mother Nature 2, Scottoline 0. Enter more Nature, in the form of weeds. By the way, deer don't eat weeds. Thanks, Bambi. And when I say weeds, I mean weeds, and tons of them. They sprouted everywhere through the mulch allegedly purposed to keep them down. So now I get to go outside and weed like crazy. I can't tell the weeds from the plants, except that there are way more weeds than plants, and everything in the garden smells like puke. Game, set, and match to Mother Nature.