Blog readers may remember a post I wrote in April about my troubles keeping the plywood Easter eggs hanging from the town gazebo. It all worked out, but I was glad when Easter was over and I could take those darn eggs down.
I started weeding and edging around the gazebo and the monument “as soon as the ground could be worked.” I thought I started early enough. I even took my pruning shears and trimmed a lot of the yellow-tipped grass around the Memorial Garden. Alas, my edging technique left something to be desired once again. I got a call from Faye, asking me if I had edged the gardens yet.
Even though Faye showed me how to create a neat garden edge last year, I’m the kind of learner who needs to see something two or three times to really understand. Faye volunteered to offer a second session of “Edging for Dummies.”
We met at the gazebo and Faye brought her edger AND a garden fork. The garden fork. I don’t remember this implement being used last year. That must be what was missing in my technique. Then Faye looked closely at the Memorial Garden and said “Who cut down all the purple muscari?”
Oh boy. Not only was I a failure at edging, but I’d lopped off some of the flowers with my pruning shears.
I am usually honest to a fault, accepting responsibility for my mistakes. This time, I didn’t say anything except “I don’t know.” One of two things might happen. The flowers would grow and Faye might forget about it, or the public works department would hear from Faye. It wouldn’t be the first time Faye and the public works had agreed to disagree.
My edging lesson went well and we finished around the Memorial Garden. I promised I’d come back and finish the work around the gazebo later in the week.
Time got away from me and I got an e-mail from the woman currently in charge of the town gardens. She mentioned that there were quite a few weeds around the gazebo. Did I need any help edging?
I hung my head in shame. No, no, I just need to get over there and do it.
I borrowed a garden fork from Uncle Bob; “what do you need that for?” he quizzed. He was sitting on the porch with a friend who had stopped by. I explained the edging problems and he said there was an edger in the barn, “it’s shaped like a half-moon.”
“No, that’s not how Faye told me to do it,” and I tried to explain how she had taught me to do the edging. Uncle Bob’s friend laughed and practically in unison, they said “it’s Faye’s way or the highway.”
Early Sunday morning, I was greeted by some good news. The purple muscari made it.
I was feeling sorry for myself, though, huffing and puffing around the gardens. Who was responsible for my predicament? Who could I blame? The President? The Governor? The Pope?
No, there was no one to blame but myself. One other thing I remember Faye saying during my second tutorial was that she used to “edge all the time.” I guess I’d better add “edging” to my weekly list of things to do.
For some really good edging instructions, read this.