weeder women

Jeez, I don't know, maybe fifteen years ago I went to a lecture to hear Christopher Lloyd speak on garden design. He's an English garden writer/designer/overall witty guy. Or was anyway, I think he took his leave of this earth-y paradise a few years back. Now imagine, if you will, that the very lovely marbled art museum where he gave his chat was filled with, well, people who liked to look at and discuss gardening but actually did very little of it. I think I was one of the few slobs there who actually laboured in the fields so to speak. So when Mr. Lloyd made reference to his 'weeder women', (those who did the actual grubbing about on his gardens/estate/whatever), there arose quite the amused titter from the audience. I've never forgotten that and I often remember the gut check I gave myself that night. Because I was/am a weeder woman. And here's the kicker: I LIKE WEEDING. Let me tell you why. I'm kind of, in real life, well not exactly hyper but easily roused and always jazzed up about the endless and growing mountains of depressing shit that take place on this planet daily. Unchecked I would rant myself and any innocent bystander to death. Anyhoo I discovered many moons ago that weeding is my meditation. It calms me/changes my brainwaves/mellows me out and,( icing on the cake and unlike endless 'OM-ing'), accomplished something at the same time. That bit appeals to my Yankee utilitarianism. I guess the only time I get cheesed off about weeding is when all that other stuff interferes and I fall terribly behind. Maybe I ought to get a bumper sticker that says 'I'd rather be weeding'. In a nutshell I've designated August to be weeding month. Couple the weeding with what I cut back and the piles get respectable. Oh yeah.