Memorable writing that sparks imagination. Lean in. Hear the writer’s voice on the page.
It’s a Jungle
By Marlene Cullen
It’s a jungle out there. I’d like to peg Bumbling Unreliable Gardener, aka Bug, on a hook and let him hang until cured.
Except, I wonder, is he at fault for my jungle of a yard? Should I have been more forceful in not allowing him to install a plethora of plants in my pursuit of a peaceful place?
I discovered Bug on social media. He answered my gardening questions as if he was a landscaping guru. So, I hired him. Big mistake. Huge.
He handed me an extensive questionnaire to compose my heart’s desire in a garden. Winding paths. Check. Whimsical. Check. Calm, serene. Check, check. I envisioned a landscape of pleasant plants flowing in meandering paths. No white plants.
What I got was spiky plants here, there, everywhere. Festucas are so overgrown they barricade the path from the sidewalk to the storage shed. I need a machete to get to the innocent outbuilding. It stands sentinel, even though the fescue threatens to obliterate it.
The sweet-sounding lamb’s ears look like aliens landed in my yard and vomited.
Guara, taller than skyscrapers, threaten to overtake the clothesline with white flowers. White! Didn’t I say I did not want white flowers?
Pause. Take a breath.
I transplanted seven Guaras. They are majestic in their new location, waving their glorious flowers like a princess atop a float in a parade.
I successfully transplanted three festucas. I was as excited as a rabbit in a field of carrot tops. But then, the green stalks turned yellow. When I pulled on them, they came right up, as easy as pinching a wad of cotton candy from its paper cone holder. I stared at the clump in my hand. It looked like something a scarecrow could use to stuff himself or herself with. The roots had disappeared from the universe like a black hole.
The irrigation system has misbehaved since Bug installed it. There were leaks in several places that spurted water like they were errant fire hydrants.
One zone completely stopped squirting water, as if we hadn’t paid our water bill.
The sad but not neglected yard is a gardener’s nightmare. To repair the leaky irrigation tubing my husband and I had to disturb the calm bark mulch, forming it into mounds, so we could access the misbehaving parts. We plugged them and prepared to move on to the next laborious step: Removing 27 plants that are overcrowding, overproducing, and just not wanted. Sorry, not sorry, plants.
Step One. Sharpen the machete.
Step Two. It’s hot in the jungle. Go inside. Get a cool drink. Check email. Check Facebook because, you never know, there might be something important there.
Step Three. It’s the middle of the afternoon. Nap time.
Step Four. Dinner Time.
Step Five. Plan to tame the jungle another day.
Epilogue: Twenty plants have been re-homed. The lamb’s ears became mulch to help other plants live long and prosper.
Freewrite inspired by the writing prompt, Metaphors and Hyberbole on The Write Spot Blog.
Marlene Cullen grew up in the Mission District of San Francisco where she visited the library weekly, carrying home as many books as she could carry. She has always been fascinated with words and language.
Marlene Cullen is a writing workshop facilitator and founder of Writers Forum of Petaluma. Her Jumpstart Writing Workshops provide essential elements for successful writing. She hosts The Write Spot Blog, where memorable writing is featured on the Sparks page.
