Not-So-Secret Garden

Note:  Read "Legends of My Falls," "One Flew Over the Basement Stairs," "Snow White Falling on Cedar," "Down, Down and Away," "The Accidental Tourist," "The Latte Show," "Up the Downed Suitcase," "Hawaii K-O," "Things That Go Bump in the Night" and "Pop Goes the Damsel" before reading this post.

In 2009 we moved from Virginia back to where it all began, Port Orchard, WA. We moved from a two-story townhouse to a two-story house. Before we left the townhouse I spent hours and hours scrubbing it from top to bottom. Every inch of that place was spotless. Typical of me, I got up on a step stool and cleaned every closet shelf, every kitchen cupboard, every mirror--I even washed clean every single light bulb.

The house we rented out in Manchester was big and, unfortunately, dirty. The spectacular view of Puget Sound, downtown Seattle, Blake Island and Mount Rainier made up for it, I guess. I had to clean everything, and I would like to point out that every light bulb in that big house was dirty/dusty and needed to be cleaned. I am nothing if not thorough.

The yard, too, was a mess. The property management company had failed to keep it up the way the owner in New Mexico had expected. I spent eight straight days, all day, working in that yard, and my husband spent his two weekend days doing the same. There was an upper yard and a lower yard, and in back, a walkway of uneven stepping stones going up. Whatever I trimmed down below had to be carried up the back to the upper yard. On one expedition, with both arms totally loaded with yard waste, I tripped and fell forward to the ground.

You could say the yard waste protected me from my fall. Nothing could protect me from my embarrassment. This walkway was in plain view of the house right behind us, and on that day, at that very moment, several people were standing in the yard and witnessed my fall. What do you say? They had to have seen me, but no one came to my rescue or inquired of my condition. The truth is, I hurt. My hands hurt especially. At least I could still get up off the ground, but the way I had to do it must not have made a pretty picture for my new neighbors. If you're going to fall like that, the least you could do is do it in private. But not me. I had to do it in my not-so-secret garden.

But the most damaging fall would come a year later, in my 'garden tub,' and it's a good thing it was a 'secret garden tub' because I was naked and.....well, I'm getting ahead of myself. Next up: "Slip Slidin Away."