What’s the opposite of a green thumb?

I am typing this with my right hand since my left is resting in a bowl of warm water. My forehead has a bright red mark on it, I have a bandage on my knee and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to wear these jeans again.

Gardening tried to kill me today.

I thought today seemed like the perfect day to work outside. Sunny and 70 but with enough clouds and wind to keep me cool. I had flowers that needed to be planted and a few free hours in the afternoon. It all seemed serendipitous! I’m not sure why it all went so badly, or when exactly I should have thrown in the towel. I’m very stubborn, so I was determined to plant no matter what nature threw in my way!

My first issue was cleaning out the garden. I had raked a bit earlier this week but there were weeds that refused to let go. I tugged one so hard that I eventually fell backwards, covering myself very nicely in a layer of dirt. I also probably got bugs on me but I’m refusing to acknowledge they exist. One weed was particularly resistant to digging and I decided to just yank it out, only to discover that it was covered in prickly bits. I hit with a shovel as punishment and then dug up all around it to get it out. It was about then that I noticed that hand I had gotten pricked was sort of tingly. I looked down and saw loads of white angry bumps on my now red swollen hand.

Being a very calm person, I immediately screeched and headed inside, totally sure that I had contracted some sort of deadly weed poison. While I washed my hands in the sink I contemplated just who I should call…poison control? 911? The CDC? Thankfully before I declared a national emergency my stepdad assured me that it was just going to be itchy for a while and I’d be fine. (If I do contract some type of weed-ebola, someone should probably kick him on my behalf) I soaked my hand for a bit longer, tracked down a pair of winter gloves and headed back into the fray.

Things went well for a while. There were the usual bug-freakouts and the occasional fall, but nothing major. Finally the garden was clear and it was time to plant. I needed to put down that fabric stuff that keeps out weeds first so I carefully unrolled the right length and started laying it out. Learn from my mistake…this is a two person job. That breeze that was keeping me cool was also keeping my weed cover from staying on the ground. I would get one end of the garden nice and covered and then the other end would fly up in my face and so on. At one point the whole thing degenerated into a dirty game of twister before I realized that I using rocks to hold down the ends seemed like a smarter idea (and probably looked less silly). As soon I as got the fabric down I grabbed the bag of soil, cut open one end and lifted.

Only to realize the other end was cut as well and I had dumped the whole bag all over my legs. Did I mention it’s been raining here lately? The soil was good and moist so it stuck to my jeans quite nicely. I did try to get the dirt into the garden but I have to admit it looked bad. Figuring that flowers would make it all look better, I started digging holes. My best friend, Gina, would say that I’m not a big picture person and that’s the truth. I do have a problem seeing beyond the immediate and planning ahead. Which I’m pretty sure is the reason why the first flowers I planted where the row closest to me…meaning that I would either have to lean over or step on them to plant all the other flowers. It certainly made planting the rest of the flowers a hassle (and if you notice that some of the flowers in the first row are a little bent, just ignore it) but I was moving at a quick pace.

Then came a bug. One of those ones that I’m refusing to believe exist. Well, apparently this fellow didn’t get the memo on his non-existence and decided to crawl onto my hand. I screamed, flailed, tried not to jump on 4 rows of flowers and landed on my knees on the sidewalk. Peeking one eye open, I saw that not only was the bug gone, but I had tore a hole in my jeans…and my knee. My stepdad just rolled his eyes when I came back inside for another first aid mission. As I patched myself back up, I entertained myself with all the things I was going to do when I finished this torture…er…I mean gardening. There would be ice cold glasses of water and a long shower and maybe a nap. All I had to do was get through planting the last three flowers, water them and put away the tools. I could make it. I could make it. I could make it.

I ventured back outdoors with renewed purpose. I planted those last three flowers quickly and despite an accidentally dousing of my muddy pants when I lost control of the hose, even managed to water the garden. I was ready to declare a victory! Of course I probably should have waited till after I cleaned up my mess because I had barely stopped patting myself on the back when I stepped on the rake. You know those cartoons where the good bunny leaves the rake outside and the hunter steps on it, bashes his head and sees little stars? It was just like that except no bunny to blame it on…and no stars either. Just a sore forehead and a bright red mark. The one plus side (well, besides no concussion) is that I don’t think anyone saw me, so my humiliation was limited to just myself. Yay?

I think next year, I’ll just photoshop a nice picture of a garden instead. Or tell this story to my friends and family and hope that when they stop laughing...they'll pity me enough to help out.