Applegater
DIRTY FINGERNAILS AND ALL
Some kind of
unconditional love
By sioux RogeRs
I must say that life has finally that we are not in Africa where the words
gotten so overly ridiculous that even “dying skinny baby” have real meaning. I
licking Valium won’t help. The only also took the time to lecture on “Mom’s
things that help are a hysterical belly Milk 101.” The summary lecture goes
laugh and a freshly picked bouquet like this: Mom has so much milk they
of flowers. Here’s what consumed are pumping; there is a lactation nurse
me over one recent 24-hour period: on duty; pumping milk and feeding it
The “food train” for a dear to the child in a bottle while you hold
dying friend is overflowing with an the infant close is an A+. Good grief.
abundance of kindness. This is the way
What does this all have to do
our community is. As long as I, the with a garden column? Well heck,
delivery person, don’t forget a pickup poop happens and I am so late writing
along the way, the food train rolls on. this, I thought an explanation close to
Last night when I went to put the “My dog ate my homework” would do.
chicks and ducks away, they had all gone
Unconditional love…
into the vegetable garden via the garden hummmmm. We often talk about our
gate, which blew partially inward from animals giving us unconditional love.
a faulty latch. I normally can get them Heck, I once had a guinea pig, Ruby-Doo,
all out with the normal, “Here chick, who I thought gave me unconditional
chick, chick,” but
love. Actually,
the wood chips by
she did have
was in too much of a hurry to
the gate were too
lie next to her in the heat of the some conditions
high, and the gate afternoon and see how she would
based around my
would not push all feel.
remembering to
the way open. So
feed her but, aside
what happened? The
from that, never a
chickens and ducks ran toward the open complaint. All the dogs and cats I have ever
gate and went behind it, then got tangled in owned, or who have owned me, did give
the roses bushes growing through the fence. me unconditional love, even if I skimped
Don’t even bother to ask how I remedied this. on food or forgot to feed them. This past
Then one of our workers cut month, I lost a very dear pet. She was
himself rather severely on his other job, a only three years old. She walked around
few hours prior to coming to our house. the garden with me singing sweet songs.
He had not gone to the repair hospital Even my dog, McGee, was her buddy. She
and, because it kept bleeding, he could gave us all, in her own heirloom-turkey
not work here. He said I could “fix” way, unconditional love. Her name was
him. So the surgical table came out (aka Arizona, a beautiful female Bourbon Red
kitchen sink) and we did a major rescrub Turkey. I dedicate this column to her.
and sterilizing, short of sticking his hand
Parents often like to think they
in the fire. Then I had to suture it and have unconditional love for their children,
dress it for more protection. I was putting but as I grow into a “zipper-lipped” mother
hubby’s size large disposable gloves on of adult children, I realize this is actually
the worker’s pudgy hand, covered with something a child has to teach a parent.
all kinds of drapery and, duh, too small. If the parents do not receive the lesson,
So we went to protection plan B, which unconditional love does not happen.
seemed to get him through the day. Maybe one might re-name unconditional
In the middle of all this, a friend, love as “love with some borders.”
On the other hand, a garden—
presently living in Florida, calls and goes
ballistic at lordy knows what, but I was the well, mine for sure—does NOT give
target. I bite. This is VERY unusual for me me unconditional love. In fact, she
as I am usually quiet Teflon with her, but I is downright judgmental, demanding
guess she was the proverbial straw-of-the- and sometimes unforgiving. Wait up,
day. She did not know she created a fire maybe I am talking about myself, not
in my gut, and the drool from my mouth the garden. On the other side of the
was a serious symptom, like when your dog moon, what my garden has taught me in
starts to drool in the car. The “fire hose” the realm of “unconditional love” is that
shot across the Internet and flames were put smothering, overgrooming and fussing
out. I was left with a subdued friend and don’t work, either. That is not love. For
my own personal migraine. Oh, mylanta. example, every year I like to clip off the
That morning (6 am, to be precise) tips of the spent peonies and oak-leaf
a very dear friend from Klamath Falls, hydrangeas. This year I did not have the
called wanting me to “hide and drive” her time or the energy. Guess what? We
blue truck in our wide open driveway. I all survived. The girls look beautiful,
suggested we paint her blue truck with
flowers and leaves and it would blend
right into our garden. We finally made a
joint decision to just cover the truck with
branches and leave it camouflaged in her
yard. Anyhow, the drive back to Klamath
Falls was not worth the new paint job.
Then another friend calls me from
New York very hysterical, and is crying so
hard I could barely understand her. She
has a six-day-old grandson she finally saw
“unwrapped.” My dear, wonderful friend
said she is scared to death the infant is
going to die because he is the skinniest
child she ever saw. I had to remind her
I
Summer 2011 5
plants transplanted as long, stringy legged
specimens from a poorly lit hothouse did
not love me or survive. Long, long legs
without a root to stand on is unforgivable.
Good question to ponder is
when do you receive unconditional love?
Even in “real life” you may not get back
what you give or vice versa, even when
you believe you are “right.” So, once
again, I go to the soul of my garden to
“zen” my spirit, and often—if I am able
to sit long enough—I get an answer.
B o t h ov e r i n d u l g e n c e a n d
underindulgence may be unforgivable.
Two nights ago I moved a volunteer
tomato that had come up in my compost
pile. I, not the tomato, decided she would
be happier a few feet over. This was like
Sioux Rogers—And the beet goes on.
a feng shui move, on my part, so my
compost pile would look “better balanced.”
despite their lack of preening and pruning. Really, who wants a tomato growing on
Then again my roses halfway the edge? Well, I guess the tomato did
forgave me for not giving them their and the decision was not mine to make,
annual beauty pruning. Once again, at least for my reason. She is still on the
lack of time proceeded the garden fainting couch. How often are my life
formalities. So what happened? I had a and my garden reflections of each other?
most magnificent show of the English rose Moving a happy tomato was not a good
Abraham Darby. However, in two days thing. Trying to re-root grown children
Mr. Darby had worn himself out and all or grown children re-rooting their parents
the huge, magnificent rose flower heads for whatever reason is not usually good.
were plum tuckered out, drooped to the
It never occurred to me that the
finished. Now I need to really prune him, most beautiful of all my peonies loves
but I was rewarded with unconditional living under the shelter of a raggedy gray
love, even with my creative poor timing. bush. Would she ever have forgiven me
The more I write and think about if I had forced her to move into another
my garden, the more I feel I need to do a neighborhood? Well, either through
one-eighty reverse and tell you that my neglect, oversight or perhaps insight, my
garden really does give me a very broad amazing peony did forgive me—what
and forgiving type of love. For example, I perceive as unconditional love. Her
last year, for the umpteenth time, I was blooms were magnificent, fragrant and
determined to have blueberries and decided long-lasting. Doesn’t get better than that.
to really douse them in white vinegar Who am I to say where she prefers to reside.
as everyone knows blueberries need an
Now my tomato plants, not the
acid soil. So what
one in the compost
happened? All the
pile, do have a “but”
ell, they certainly did
blueberry bushes
attached to their
not forgive me, they just
fainted. Nurse
surrendered to being eaten up alive. unconditional love.
Dirty Fingernails
I can forget to water
to the rescue as I
them until they wilt
stood diluting or near drowning the newly but not until they wilt to a crisp. All they
planted baby bushes. I was also doing a plant request is a good, long, deep drink and they
dance around them and praying loudly and are fully refreshed. What pals. If I could just
hard to the plant gods to please forgive give my friends a nice, cool tall one when
my ignorant overindulgence. The next I have offended them and have them just
pm, after a morning’s repeat performance perk right up, well life would sure be easier.
of watering to dilute the vinegar, I was
Unconditional love, whether in
forgiven. Plants perked up and I had a my garden or my heart, means taking
vague idea that too much of a good thing a deep breath and letting my tomato
is not always a good thing. So that is plant grow off center in the compost
kind of unconditional love, well, sorta. pile, as it wishes; the peony gets to live
But not all works out so well. I happily with the scrubby bush; and
planted one beloved hydrangea bush in all the people you love, well, just love
sunlight and was never forgiven. I was in them without your own ego judging.
too much of a hurry to lie next to her in
the heat of the afternoon and see how she
Dirty fingernails and all,
would feel. The answer was fatal, third-
Sioux Rogers
degree burns (not me, her). I was not
541-846-7736
forgiven. Then there are the snow peas,
mumearth@dishmail.net
planted in the middle of our
slimy slug wet spring. Well,
they certainly did not forgive
me, they just surrendered to
being eaten up alive. All the
W