A persuasive writer, dynamic editor and audience advocate for companies ranging in services from health care to financial, and from real estate to appraisal. Ability to work cooperatively with employees as diverse as CEOs, physicians, nurses, salespeople and engineers. Extensive experience as a manager with responsibility for determining budgets.

Gardening Isn’t for Sissies

Leaning forward crounching on my kneepad while rose thorns dig into my back and arms to pull weeds under the three rose bushes, this morning I realized gardening isn’t for sissies. You may think gardening involves tossing some flowers into the ground and watching them grow. How I wish it were that easy.

In my yard, gardening is a full combat sport. My opponents are weeds in all sorts of pesky varieties; ferns (at least in my city garden); and bugs–-from the slugs that attack the hostas to the Asian beetles that assail the rose bushes. If I could use chemical pesticides like my mother-in-law, the battle would be more one-sided. But trying to combat these pests organically is much more lopsided. I am David fighting these insect and weed Goliaths.

To my mind, weeds are perverted flowers like the Orcs compared to the Elfs in the “Lord of the Ring” books and movies–-a perversion of the species. Weeds were created to destroy flowers. If you want the flowers to live, you have to kill the weeds. If you ignore them for a while, the weeds will grow mighty.

Ferns are fine in the woods but not in an urban garden. If you don’t catch them early, their roots grow to the size of basketballs and send out “runners” that create more ferns in every direction. Digging out their roots can involve shovels, sweat, and falling backwards to tug out the root and kill the mother fern and her smaller children.

And finally, there are the bugs. I use sprays that stink more than 100 of the smelliest feet imaginable for roses, which have to be applied at least weekly or after every rain. For slugs, I tried filling submerged containers with beer at strategic spots. That failed last year because I had to do it every day and did not have the time. This year, I am trying to crush eggshells and throw them underneath the hostas. The summer is young, and I’m still optimistic. I just need to eat more eggs.

Jun. 6, 2011