It's 7am on my newly replanted rooftop. The chokeberry (Aronia arbutifolia) is in full flower, promising a huge berry crop for fall. The dwarf lilac
'Bloomerang' is at peak
and will continue to
bloom throughout the
summer if I'm
assiduous about dead-
heading, a task I love.
All is serene.
But there's a snake in the Garden of Eden, a 150 foot garden hose, long enough to reach the far edges of the garden. It's just waiting for me to water in the transplants. I'm thinking of how I'll saw up the black bamboo and plant it in two containers, what I'll use to fertilize the roses, what variety of Monarda to order. I trip on the hose. I teeter and crash into the sharp edge of the new planter.Barely able to move without stabbing pain I finally go to my doctor, an avid gardener. He finds tears in the cartilage connecting my ribs to my sternum. We agree on the diagnosis, 'Garden Klutz'. He says he'll find the code in his directory of medical diseases so he can bill my insurance for the x-ray. He doesn't yet know if there is a sub-code reserved solely for New York City Garden Klutzes, but he rather thinks there is.
I've been called by many epithets, of course: ' herb lady', ' garden lady', 'wreath lady', 'lavender queen', and while still a psychologist, ' trouble maker' for whistle-blowing on the County Mental Health Administrator who was derelict in his duties.
I think 'Garden Klutz' has a certain ring to it. Daughter Jen says she once followed the Abbot & Costello routine and actually stepped on a rake and was hit on the head by the handle.
Have you ever been a Garden Klutz? Tell me please.
There's no picture of the actual accident. The image below is after the fall. Those planter edges look totally innocent don't they?