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© 2011, Kebba Buckley Button.  World Rights Reserved.

It’s 9 am in Phoenix on a very humid day that will be about 110 degrees.  I’m sipping an iced tea, my hair is drenched, and I’ve toweled my face and cleaned my glasses twice already.  I have dots of potting soil on my body and clothes, and my gardening flip flops will definitely need to be hosed off.  As will I.  You guessed it:  it’s Garden Minding Morning!  I’m done moving soil and plant stuff for the morning, having started early.  Time to flop, rest, and sip.

Now don’t get me wrong.  I love the effects of doing the work.  The plants are perkier and actually show more color.  The storm detritus is gone.  The patio furniture is clean enough for serving.  The birds can visit the wabi basin, now filled with fresh water.  The bird clan think it’s their spa.  The whole Feng Shui garden feels more harmonious and has a strong energy of beauty and balance.  Plus, my muscles have stretched and, at no charge, my pores are completely cleaned out.

To get to this sipping-resting-reward state, though, this morning involved some…extra moves.  Still in the Purple Foot Society (PFS), since the Bad Box attacked my foot last week, I still wanted to take the smallest number of steps I could.  Emptying the trash, I found something had liquefied overnight, so I got to wash the trash can.  OK, fresh energy.  I’m into clean trash cans.  Then, I needed to go water the neighbors’ plants.  Hmm.  Glad I remembered.  Didn’t want their plants to fry and die today.  It was warming up, so one goal was to finish fast.  In my friends’ yard, I watered the plants and quickly cleared the storm junk and one extremely dead plant.  I brought that now-empty earthenware pot to my doorway and replanted it with an array of coin plant cuttings, drenching the soil through.  A small companion pot got an arrangement of variegated coin plant, to keep the solid green one company in the neighbors’ succulent corner.  Now I was on the home stretch.  Good, because my PFS foot wanted an ice pack.  It had had enough stress.

Scurrying back to the neighbors’ doorway with one heavy, wet pot in each hand, I was astonished to hear a loud “thwack”.  I pivoted on my good foot, only to find the bottom had actually fallen off of the earthenware pot.  I backtracked to get the pot bottom.  At this point, my PFS foot was really complaining.  Oddly, the potting soil had not fallen out of this (strange?) pot.  I picked up the pot bottom and cradled it under its pot.  It looked like it would fit nicely under the pot again, once back in the succulent corner.  I resumed hurrying along the walkway.  At this point, my shorts decided to slide down past my um… underthings.  So there I was with both hands full of wet pots and stray potting soil.  Ever alert to priorities, I quickly looked around for observant passersby, and at that second, there was not one!  God is good!  And sometimes life is funnier than anything we can make up.

So now the coin plants are happily ensconced in their new neighborhood.  The storm trash has gone to the dumpster, there’s ice on my foot and iced tea in my hand.  There’s a shower in my near future.  And I’m sure the potting soil will wash out of my shorts.


Reach the writer at kebba@kebba.com.