Survival of the
fittest. You see that every day in the
garden, and not only among plants and
bugs. Every spring I barely survive my own
enthusiasm. This is the time of year when
I'm wishing the snow away and eager to get
out into the yard, where the first thing
I'll likely do is strain something. I do
it every year. At the first opportunity
I'm out there poking away at the compost
heap to see if it moves. If it does it
means the frost is out of it, so I run to
the shed and fetch a fork to give it an
enthusiastic turning. Then I spend the
rest of the week walking funny and cursing
the compost heap, when it's really my own
fault for letting myself get out of shape.
I do try to stay fit over winter by
shovelling snow, but there's only so much
to shovel and this year it hardly snowed
at all. When this happens I soon start to
lose the little bit of muscle tone I have.
When there is a lot of snow still around,
I'll sometimes haul out Wally, my
wheelbarrow, and use him to move it from
the pile beside the driveway to the
backyard. This way I keep in reasonable
shape and at the same time help the garden
by extending the snow coverage for my more
tender perennials.
Of course, the neighbours aren't too sure
what to make of this. Clearing snow off
the driveway may be acceptable -- even
encouraged, but putting it in a
wheelbarrow to move it around the yard
does raise a few eyebrows. I know they
think I'm nuts, but a fresh lettuce tossed
over the fence in summer helps keep down
the rumours.
What I don't understand is, the neighbours
may roll their eyes at me doing a little
honest toil, but they think nothing of
someone jogging down the street in the
middle of winter wearing pink spandex,
shrink-wrapped around too many big Macs.
Maybe it's the colour. Maybe I shouldn't
wear the yellow ones when I'm getting my
workout, even though they match Wally
perfectly.
As each year goes by I'm finding harder to
stay in shape, so I came up with a great
idea. I don't know why I didn't think of
it before. This winter I cleaned up the
garage and turned it into my very own
garden gym. It was easy. I tied a couple
of bricks to a shovel, and I hooked up a
rake to the wall with a bungee cord. Now I
can stand there for hours pretending I'm
digging the veggie garden over or raking
the lawn.
That's not all. I developed a whole range
of exercises to simulate yard work. One of
the harder jobs in the yard is pushing a
wheelbarrow. I wanted to bring Wally in to
wheel around the garage but there isn't
enough room. I solved that by substituting
a couple of pails for Wally and I carry
them back and forth instead. When I get
the hang of it I'll put something in the
pails instead of pretending Wally's empty.
Another exercise I discovered quite by
chance. I was in the gym doing some bungee
raking, and hadn't quite got the hang of
it. I had the rake pulled to the limit
when it slipped out of my hand and boinged
around the garage. Dangerous? I'll say. It
slapped me in the head a couple of times
before raking everything off the shelf
where I store all my odds and ends. Two
hours of simulated weeding as I cleaned
them up was easily as effective, and
exciting, as the real thing.
Yes, the garden gym works great; however,
being cooped up in the garage without the
distractions of nature I've discovered a
whole new perspective on what I'm actually
doing to myself out there in the yard
every spring. After a few weeks of working
out I've come to realize how much stress I
actually put my poor body through.
No wonder it's always grumbling. I now
believe that gardening is just as grueling
as any sport. Why, maybe gardening should
be in the Olympics. That would be so
thrilling. Can you imagine the
spine-tingling tension of a topiary
competition, or the excitement of
competitive weeding? And let's not forget
the sheer titillation of questionable
garden clothing.
But then I suppose there'd be the usual
scandal over the use of illegal growth
hormones (that will be a biggie, I'm
sure), and we'd have to watch those hokey
interviews with the medalists: "I owe it
all to my pony, Jenny, for providing me
with what it takes to grow healthy
plants." Meanwhile the medalists will all
be sitting there holding shovels with
trademarks showing and wearing
shrink-wrapped spandex with the logos of
huge fertilizer companies plastered over
them.
Maybe not. Maybe I'll skip today's workout
and give the compost heap a poke instead
-- ooh, ow.
