“Caution, slippery when wet” could be plastered on signs all over my yard (and probably should be), and I would probably still end up where I was an hour ago – flat on my bum, soaking wet, with grass
stains on everything, and one boot off somewhere in the mud. That’s just how it goes around here.
I get distracted, you see, and this morning I was distracted by my own plans for planting my watermelon seeds. Watermelon is such a great fruit. We love it, the chickens love it, even my dogs like to drink the juice. And that rind is great for watermelon pickle. Plus, it’s so easy to grow: you just put the seeds in a nice raised bed in the rainy weather and watch it sprout. I like to let it curl its way along the tops of the beds and even up the fence, although you do need to have a strong fence and put the fruit in a sling if you do that. Since my fence is flimsy – just enough to keep out marauding chickens – letting it curl in the beds is best. The same is true for my other types of melon and probably for the squash, but I am pretty sure the fence is strong enough for the cucumbers.
But I was talking about the wet-slipperies. We live on a hillside, so when I head to the garden, I head downhill. Not that I can’t slip while going back uphill, and I have, but it’s more likely to happen when going down.
Understand, I do have steps on the slope, but they don’t seem to help much. Sometimes I blame my tripping feet on the dogs, especially Bravo, a particularly large and rambunctious German shepherd. He is particularly fond of bumbling around and giving me a push from behind, or getting ahead of me and then stopping suddenly so that I run into him. Either way, he has more fun from the game than I do, but today, it was all me. So, here is “all me,” not gardening, but lying on the bed with a heating pad wondering if I should exchange it for an ice pack.
All this while my husband, Metric Man, sighs and offers me scant comfort. He has that “I told you to be careful” look on his face. The truth is, I am careful. Stuff just seems to happen. All it takes is putting your foot down a bit wrong or finding something in your path, like a dog or a chicken. Sometimes, it just happens.
And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to wash the mud off my gardening clothes.