Weird – Level 10.

I am weird, but I don’t have to tell you that.  Anyone who has read a handful of my blogs can easily arrive at that conclusion.  There are levels of weird though – and let’s face it, the level matters.  It is easy to tolerate a little bit of weirdness – indeed, we may even seek that out in others to keep life interesting.  Alas, there is a definitely a limit to the novelty of weirdness and beyond that limit are the levels of weird that we scratch our heads and wonder about.

My 13 year old daughter Cheyenne thinks I have crossed over into the head-scratching kind of weird.  Upon quiet reflection I must concur with her assessment, hence my disclosure at the outset of this blog – I am weird.  I see no point in denying it and it occurs to me that by sharing it openly here I may be helping others understand folks like me.

The evidence of my weirdness became unmistakably apparent while I was out working in the garden with Mike and Cheyenne today.  We were doing some general cleaning, and in some cases, some fairly significant cutting back of plants.  It was not a joyous task I assure you.  When the time came to take out the massive collection of sunflowers that were affected by a recent dip in temperature I balked a bit. They were the giants of the garden and the thought of removing them made me terribly sad.

I had watched them grow from singular seeds to massive plants that became a wall of tall color that seemed to protect the smaller plants in the garden.  They were impervious to the wind and were loved by the butterflies, bees and birds.  They were a towering garden icons that greeted me each time I looked out my kitchen window – simple, but beautiful.

It pained me to have them taken out.  I couldn’t watch.  It made me want to cry.  I know, I am weird…head-scratching weird.

The garden just made me so happy.  To cut it back now and to see the sunflowers carted away leaves me feeling like something has been taken from me.  I feel like I have lost some piece of me.

Cheyenne thinks I am ridiculous – she points out that of course I knew they were going to die sooner of later as we live in North Dakota.  She thinks I am a fruit loop for being sad to see them go.

Okay – so I am weird – level 10 weird.  I grew attached to that which grew in my garden and I will miss the beauty that I was able to enjoy over the summer.  I will miss all my beautiful flowers, but most of all I will miss the sunflowers.

Mike and Cheyenne have both said they think we should forgo the sunflowers next year as they were difficult to get out of the ground and dispose of, but I don’t really care if they want more sunflowers or not.  As far as I am concerned, a half day of work for what was three months of joy is totally worth it.  I guess they will just have to learn to live with that – kinda’ like they have learned to live with the level 10 weirdo I am. 😉

Day one thousand one hundred and seventy-five of the new forty – obla di obla da

Ms. C

4 Responses

  1. katherine

    Please keep the heads. Birds and squirrels will continue to enjoy the seeds.
    And do plant again. You might also want to try planting Jack in the Beanstock. Grows tall and leafy.
    I have wept at the end of a season, too.

  2. B-Dubya

    For years we gardened on a scale that we called “farming”. Green veggies, tomatoes, potatoes, sweet corn, berries, flowers, ….
    From mid-June to mid-September, I always said that gardening “had me by the throat” with weeding and then harvesting and preserving. And yet when the season was over for the year, I did a lot of sniffling as we pulled up the dead plants. Sometimes weird and strange just comes with being truly “tuned in”.

  3. Carlene Dean

    “Weird” is a matter of opinion; I don’t think this woman is weird at all, though I can understand why others might. I hate to see the stuff in the garden being tilled under, cut away, etc.; it’s just because I hate anything that signals the end of summer (sigh ….. ) And we’re weird in my house, also, and proud of it!

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