Gardening

Dear Mom,

I suppose we were too little to be asked to help with the garden. We didn’t have planting beds like I have now, but I do remember Aunt Tish (neighbor) that had a bed that divided our two yards with beautiful red and yellow tulips that we knew not to pick.

I wanted your granddaughter Rita to experience gardening, digging in the dirt, becoming one with nature so I asked her to help me. Reluctantly she went along with it and I was sure she’d love it and be as excited as me. We worked in this little area and just started pulling weeds when she jumped back and screamed.

I spun around. “What? What?”

“Look!” Rita gagged and her body shivered.

Squirming around on the ground was a devilish looking insect—a rather plump grub like wormy thing with this clipper pincher type mouth. I had never seen anything like it and it even scared me. I took the shovel and scooped it up. It bounced around on the shovel blade having a major tizzy fit and I quickly tossed it. I calmed Rita down who begged to go inside, but I convinced her it was just a one in a million thing. She started digging again, screamed and ran inside. I looked at where she had dug and there were a bazillion maggots.

I cracked up laughing figuring perhaps it’s not in her blood to be a gardener—yet.