It was a breezy, warm afternoon in Arizona.
As usual, the Spring weather
dried out my gardens, and I was watering.

So far, it had been the Year of the Mutants.
The aloe vera, Gerbera Daisies, the Tombstone Rose,
even the seven foot tall sunflower had a mutant,
conjoined flowers, one sun gone to seed,
the other just blooming. And bugs!
Always some strange critter-bug
scampering around the yard and in the gardens,
it was downright bizarre,
the strangeness of the season.

So, anyway, there I am, watering
the waist-high, cliff-backed garden,
which is getting kind of wild on one end.
The monstrous cluster of lilies
are six feet wide and five high, and right now,
there are thirteen thick, long stalks
either blooming or about to bloom.
They look like heads of snakes
when they rise through the morass
of lily leaves. Eerie like, you know?

Below that and to the front is its
long-time companion, an asparagus fern
that rejuvenates each year, and this
grassy plant that keeps invading
its surrounding area with its
slickery suckers underground
to send its wide shafts of green
anywhere it pleases.

Back between the lily and the ivy
by the stairs, salvia has reseeded itself,
profusely, spikes of red flowers
thrusting towards the sky in abandonment.
Very pretty and hardier than
a palm tree in the tropics. In front of them
is a mish-mash, a spindly strawberry plant,
a few Coreopsis and bunches of those
clover-shaped weeds that taste like lemons
and pop seeds at you when touched or watered.

The purple verbana is lush and gorgeous,
dangling down the railroad tie wall,
along with blue vining Vinca, threading
its reaching vines in and out of the others,
gracefully draping and touching the ground.
It’s my favorite section now that the English Ivy
finally took off and is climbing the cliff.

Only, it seemed a little dark with so much green.
So, several weeks ago, on Mother’s Day night,
because my husband had cooked supper
and had forgotten desert, my daughter and I
ran to the store, quick-like. But, all
the Mother’s Day plants and stuff
were half-price, so we got looking around,
and buying. When we were leaving,
I saw these huge fake roses and thought
how great they would look in the garden
and bought four of them; red, yellow, orangey
and a light pink one, which I stuck in front
of the ivy. It looked great!

Now, I’m coming down the sixty feet
of this garden, almost to my favorite section,
happily watering away, when I see it!
Or, part of it, anyway. I saw
this leg-thing, on the edge of the pink rose.
It was squigglish, and fuzzy, kind of hooked
over a petal. A couple inches away
was another one. I wasn’t sure
what to think, just stood spraying
the lily and looking at those
hookydoed leg-things. As I got closer,
they got longer, attached to something
in the middle.

A hummingbird suddenly dived
into the salvia, and I watched it
a few seconds, at most. I shifted the hose,
got closer to the rose, and it seemed
the legs were tucked back further,
drawn in, like, to spring or something.
I splashed the rose with water, but
that didn’t budge it, did it again, nothing.

I hesitated, then took a step closer,
and saw this rumpled, furry, misshapen clump
of body between those two legs, with
tiny, stick-like teeth in the middle…

A catfight broke out behind me,
one of mine and the neighbors, and I whirled
in heart-stopping fright and cursed those cats,
then remembered the creature, and spun back!
The thing was gone! It must have dropped off,
and was slinking in the undergrowth towards me!

Well, I let out a yell, scared the cats,
dropped the hose and high-tailed it out of there
like a fly from a fly swatter! And I didn’t go back.
That day, anyway.

I approach my least favorite section of the garden
with care, now, when I have to water it, and don’t
dilly-dally around. The cats seem to be avoiding it, too.
A couple of times, I thought I saw a fuzzy leg
hooked over that pink rose, or hanging in the lilies.
Once I swear I saw that crumply body scurry closer
under the verbana, but didn’t stick around
to make sure it was real. When winter comes,
I think I’ll dig up that side of the garden,
and plant some concrete.

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 7/1/04

Photo to come, when I find it. :)