The Sleeping Gardener

RDP Sunday: Gumption

Géza Vörös
“, Red-clad girl with dog”

It is nearly the end of May and Summer hasn’t started yet but if Halloween is as a big of a deal at your blog as it is at mine, you’ve been roughing out and post dating stories and poems for a month now.

In that today I realized that since the end of 2019 most of my days are spent working, wearing a mask, sweating bullets until I was vaccinated and ignoring the drab, gray, and boring world around me.

And I’ve been thinking about ‘ after this ” a lot too.

I also keep thinking I could have done more, but what I wished most of all is that I had planted a garden.

That’s my biggest regret. I didn’t plant a garden.

The reality is I am really, really bad at making living things grow. I did wonderful with herbs, but seriously,  they’re like a lawn and dandelions. They’re going to grow  whether you want them to your not.

I kill pretty flowers and decorative bushes  with serial killer like skills that are on par with Jack The Ripper’s.

I would stand there right next to my victims with my gardening gloves on my hands and a big floppy hat on my head and my Ray Ban Sunglasses protecting my eyes. Mozart would be drifting from my pink CD Player on  my potting bench.

It looked normal, it felt normal. I was normal.

Did anyone ever suspect what I was doing to those poor defenseless roses and Pansies and those other flowers whose names I never learned because what was the point? They never lived long enough for anyone to care what they were.

It’s not like anyone was going to point to their little dried up corpses, point to them and say, ” Ooo, what’s that one called?”

I was just a dumpy faceless lady who wore funny hats and  Ray Bans and spent all day in her garden with a trowel in one hand and nothing in the other because it was usually clenched shut.

I did wave and smile when people strolled by.

I was pretty good at that. You know. Acting normal when the moment demanded.

Still.

With some effort I could stop off at the grocery store on my way home from work and pick up some flowers in those plastic trays. All I would have to do is pop them out and put them into the containers that I keep on hand- hidden in my storage shed like a guilty secret, because they are most certainly evidence of my shady gardening past.

I don’t know.

Maybe it’s the boredom. Maybe it’s because I’ve been locked  up in a gray and dull world. Maybe it’s gotten to me.

But all I can think about now is planting a garden and hunting down the perfect blooms to put in it.

 

 

 

It’s Saturday Night

As Rod Serling famously said in the opening of the ” Twilight Zone”

:Pleased to present, for your consideration:

Here are two versions of the same song.

One version is ” Saturday Night ” which was a monster hit for the Bay City Rollers in 1976. I was 12 years old when it came out and that is the reason why, over 40 years later I play the guitar.

I’ve also posted here the same song by Ned’s Atomic Dustbin which was featured in the film ” So I Married an Ax Murderer “.

I actually love both versions of the same song- they both have energy, they certainly both have a lot of Spirit and in both versions you get the sense that you are moving along to somewhere great and that you will be dancing the entire way.

But here is the difference for me.

Had I been 12 when Ned’s Atomic Dustin released Saturday Night, I doubt if I would have pulled out my Dad’s guitar and started taking music lessons because of it.

Ned’s version is cool, it’s a little gritty . It made me want to listen to it, to dance to it but it didn’t invite me to rock along,

Like I said though, I loved both versions and I hope you will enjoy them too,

S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y night
S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y night
S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y night
S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y night

Gonna keep on dancin’ to the rock and roll
On Saturday night, Saturday night
Dancin’ to the rhythm in our heart and soul
On Saturday night, Saturday night

I-I-I-I just can’t wait
I-I-I-I gotta date

At the good ol’ rock and roll
Folk show, I’ve gotta go
Saturday night, Saturday night
Gonna rock it up, roll it up
Do it all, have a ball
Saturday night, Saturday night

S-S-S-Saturday night
S-S-S-Saturday night
S-S-S-Saturday night

S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y night
S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y night
S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y night
S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y night

Gonna dance with my baby till the night is through
On Saturday night, Saturday night
Tell her all the little things I’m gonna do
On Saturday night, Saturday night

I-I-I-I love her so
I-I-I-I’m gonna let her know

At the good ol’ rock and roll
Folk show, I’ve gotta go
Saturday night, Saturday night
Gonna rock it up, roll it up
Do it all, have a ball
Saturday night, Saturday night

S-S-S-Saturday night
S-S-S-Saturday night
S-S-S-Saturday night

S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y night
S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y night
S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y night
S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y night
S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y night
S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y night

S-S-S-Saturday night
S-S-S-Saturday night
S-S-S-Saturday night
S-S-S-Saturday night
S-S-S-Saturday night
S-S-S-Saturday night