‘Animals Guy’ is planted in an awkward situation
When I was recently asked if I would like to speak to a local garden club, my response was an easily reflexive “Yes, of course!”
As a person who works in natural resources conservation, I figured it would be tough to find a crowd more friendly to the cause of keeping our waters clean and keeping the soil in its place.
“We’ve been hearing a lot about invasive and toxic weeds,” the club’s program coordinator said. “We’d love to have you come tell us about them.”
Having fielded questions all summer long about the proliferation of poison hemlock and giant hogweed in our area, I figured the gig would be gravy. I’d pass around some colorful handouts, parrot some well-worn horror stories about each of the pernicious plants and spend the rest of my time chit-chatting about dahlias and day lilies while eating home-baked brownies and snickerdoodles with the ladies of the club.
Like so many of the dim ideas I mistake as bright and conclusions to which I so readily jump, I didn’t fully understand what I was getting myself into until I was sitting smack in the middle of it in a full-sweat panic. I’d arrived to a room full of weeds.
“I figured since we had a weed expert on tap, that I’d ask each of the women to bring a sample of their own most-despised weed,” said our hostess as I squirmed at the front of the room in a nicely upholstered armchair. “Perhaps you can identify each weed and offer some tips for eradicating them?”
There were lots of weeds — different weeds, some I had never seen before and some that were all too familiar as they grow directly outside my door. One thing each of them had in common was the fact I was absolutely clueless with regard to its identity. I’m an “animals” guy and have only recently started paying attention to plants as I’ve come to discover they are far less apt to run away as I approach.
Not only did I have no idea how to get rid of this bouquet of random weeds — beyond flipping them into the nearest trash can — my wife and I literally regard most of the plants in the bunch as either beautiful wildflowers or at least noteworthy “volunteers” that somehow find a way to grow in our flowerbeds despite our well-documented brown thumbs.
It has been said honesty is always the best policy, and I could imagine no better venue in which to try out that maxim.
“Hi, um, I am John from the local Soil & Water,” I said clearing my throat. “First off, a confession. I don’t have a clue as to what these weeds are. However, I can tell you for certain that nearly all of them are growing within 30 feet of my home and are regarded as precious wildflowers.”
There was an audible gasp.
“There’s an old truism that says, ‘Every dog has his day,’” I continued. “Well, I guess it’s clear that this day belongs to these weeds because, whether we like them or not, they have somehow found a way to become the centerpiece at a meeting of this esteemed garden club.”
The observation was greeted with a healthy round of laughter, and I had danced out of my awkward situation by living another truism I’d learned long ago from my father: If you can’t be useful, you should at least be entertaining.
Kristin and John Lorson would love to hear from you. Write Drawing Laughter, P.O. Box 170, Fredericksburg, OH 44627, or email John at jlorson@alonovus.com.