American Humor: Fertilizer Happens

The last laugh column shares MOTHER EARTH NEWS reader submitted regional American humor with other MOTHER readers.

| February/March 1996


The aromatic acrobatics of spring fertilizer.


Last Laugh shares MOTHER EARTH NEWS reader submitted American humor with other readers. 

American Humor: Fertilizer Happens

Every garden begins with an idea of stunning simplicity: Start early. Today is marked on our calendar in red, a very special day, the day we fertilize our garden. It is a cloudy, windless, dreary, colorless morning. Oregon can be quite beautiful at this time of year, provided you stay indoors and squeeze your eyes shut when passing a window.

Joy, my partner in life and gardening, is already up, watching the dawn sky turn from dark gray to light gray, with a little hopeful yellow-gray patch where the sun would be fully visible, if this were Mexico. We exchange the first pleasantries of the day:

"Good morning. God, I hate this weather."

Joy smiles, big and bright as a sunflower. "Good morning, sweetheart. I made you some tea. Here, have a fortune cookie. Are we all ready to fertilize the garden?"

Her face is the only sunlight in my world. She looks so eager to get started, so ready to commune with the soggy peat we call our garden, so happy to be working on it, that I lie. "Oh, sure." And then I take a light, light breakfast. Today is the offal day, and one needs nothing too heavy on the tummy. One orange, a cup of tea, and a random fortune cookie from the bag. The message inside reads: Sweet spring is coming, and winter's behind.

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