Gardeners perplex me. Actually, I’m perplexed by many things, including gravity and spumoni ice cream and why most Americans think a t-shirt and shorts is a fashion statement in an airport, but when it comes to gardeners, I’m often really perplexed.
In the words of my dad, who never actually said this, so I don’t know why I’m invoking him while channeling one of the Bowery Boys, “Lemme give ya a fer instance.”
It seems that I’m either easily amazed or not fazed at all by new information. For instance, if you were to tell me that science has suddenly concluded
that the moon is made of Agaricus bisporus (Portobello mushrooms), my response would most likely be, “Yeah, saw that coming.”
But recently, a colleague told me about a magazine called Garden & Gun and I nearly spit my split pea soup into my fairy garden terrarium. Perhaps it’s because I’m not the kind of guy who has to strap on heat to feel safe from the squirrels in my yard. Yes, they have been known to take my lunch money from me, but that’s my own fault for wearing peanut butter scented cologne.
News alert! I have been known to be obsessed with weather, and weather reporting. Why is everybody laughing? Stop that. I’m serious here.
I’m the kind of guy who wants to experience the minus 25 F freeze-o-rama and the 110 F meltdown outside, so I can say I actually lived it. Then, after about two minutes, I want to duck back into my cozy living room with a suitable hot or cold beverage and watch the coverage on TV. Hey, I’m crazy but I’m not nuts.
This, as I have been told by the esteemed staff of Chicagoland Gardening magazine, is the Ideas Issue. I learned that a little late, as there is a de facto ban on my appearances at editorial meetings. I think it has something to do with declaring at a gathering several years ago, in what might possibly have been a high, whiney voice (I seem to have somehow blocked that memory), that the tubers from sweetpotato vine (Ipomoea batatas) were among the culinary delights of the planet. Or it might have been that I served them up on skewers adorned with Jerusalem cherries (Solanum pseudocapsicum), which are reportedly fairly poisonous.
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