Welcome to my blog about my country home. I am an avid gardener and for the most part will discuss my trials and tribulations of my own personal experiences gardening in central Florida. Here are photos of my successes. I am very proud of the yard. For now, I want to give you a little back ground about learning about gardening.
I started gardening at about age 8, when little old ladies would gladly pay me 25 cents to pull their weeds. This one lady was thrilled to find someone to do the work but did not think about the fact that 8 year olds do not know plants. She put me to work in a very large flower bed and I proudly pulled all the weeds. When I was done, I knocked on the door to collect my pay and show off my good job-this is the first time I every saw an old woman cry. I thought she was overjoyed with the wonderful job I did, but I as learned that day lilies, petunias and other flowers are not weeds. I also learned for the first time that I was a little stupid son of a bitch and to get the fuck off my property. I never even got my 50 cents. I guess some lessons are hard to learn. When I got home, I told the bitch about what happened, another lesson well learned- never call your mother a bitch, even if someone tells you that you are a son of one. My ass hurt for a week and lye soap leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. Eventually, the work dried up around my home; apparently old ladies also like to talk to other old ladies about little sons of bitches. I heard that word a lot but no one ever told me what it was but I knew well enough that it included a belt if you say it.
Fortunately, my wonderful Aunt Gwen loved to garden and I was her precious little angel and not a son of a bitch. She was very patient with me and taught me about growing vegetables and flowers. She also showed me the most important thing that I never forgot. What are weeds and what are not. She paid me more money but just the time I spent learning from her instilled my love of gardening. She also told me what a bitch was and why I should not call any woman one until I grow older. I still have her gardening books to this day.
Over the next few years I went through junior high and high school with small vegetable gardens hidden away in my back yard. I had wonderful crops but then I learned a new word “fag.” My mother just told me to ignore those little sons of bitches and she loved me. Years later, I learned what it meant and my mother still loves me. I think it is because now she gets better gifts and flowers more often.
As I grew older, I lived in apartments and the closest I got to gardening were a few potted plants and the pot plants I grew in a nearby lot. I loved the 70’s. I learned that certain plants had really good uses. Some you can bake with and others you simply make tea either way colors were much brighter and sometimes you saw flowers bloom right before your eyes. I learned about the beautiful poppy from Asia also help you relax and laugh so hard you would piss your pants.
Eventually, I graduated from high school and eventually landed a job with the American Red Cross after a year of volunteer work. I did not do a lot of gardening for quite a while and learned that when you work for non-profit organizations they want all your time and cannot afford to pay you. I’ll tell you a little secret for those of you just starting out in the world. Never, never share your back ground unless it involves a great salary with benefits. For the next 25 years, I worked as a volunteer and paid staff for many organizations from Red Cross, AIDS to developing programs for troubled youths. Although, I gained great experience, created great programs and helped to better the communities and the states I lived in. I learned another important lesson. As Michael Keaton, as Beetlejuice says, people who commit suicide becomes social workers in heaven. I don’t remember the act but somewhere along the line I must have.
This left me very little time to do much gardening. Eventually, I decided to stop volunteering and started my own business writing grants and program development for these organizations. For the next three years, I ate a lot of ramen noodles and everyone wanted me badly but very few could afford to pay me. This is when one of my voices in my head told me that I needed to get away from this field so we can eat real food and pay the bills. At this point, I proudly declared I am a gardener.
I landed a job for a wonderful and very patient 66 year old woman who needed someone to care for her yard and large flower beds. She taught me a great deal about plants and using chemicals in caring of plants. This was the start, of a great friendship and she became my mentor. She was born and raised in South Florida and had a vast knowledge of growing tropical plants and orchids. When she moved to Bushnell, Fl she learned more about growing in the area. I worked for her for about 9 years until I developed skin cancer and this put an end to working as a gardener, though I can work certain hours on my property.
There you have it; this is my life, now a full time student and a gardener. Most people look at me and are surprised when I talk about my property and my flower beds. I have 5 acres and eventually I will have it completely cleared and set up as a park and sanctuary. I am often asked why I love gardening so much and I tell people to look at the beauty of my yard and it says it all. Mostly while I work in my yard, I have time to talk to the voices in my head, who help me decide what to plant where and what roses to buy. Most of them are very helpful but that little fucker Harvey. Yes that giant pink rabbit does exist. I think when Jimmy Stewart died, he sent Harvey to me. All Harvey wants me to plant are carrots, lime trees and potatoes so we can make our own vodka. Until next time, always remember as an adult, those little sons of bitches eventually grow into teenagers, otherwise known as little fucks they better be paid.