Even though we have one, I haven’t written much about our garden this summer. The summer of 2014, much like the dozen or so summers preceding it, was spent overdosing on deliciousness straight from the garden in the form of corn on the cob, cucumbers, and pico de gallo. My pico overdoses, they are daily.
I’d love to tell you that my lack of garden inspired posts are due to a recent realization that garden updates and photos of “stoplight” tomatoes aren’t terribly interesting to readers of this blog (who, of course, come here to look for hard hitting news and investigative journalism) (duh), but that isn’t it.
This year I’m afraid of the garden. There. I said it. I’m panicked at the thought of going out there. (Gulp). Terrified really. Although, to be fair, I’ve seen Children of the Corn and Attack of the Killer Tomatoes enough times to have a general, although I believe healthy, fear of gardens. But this year? My fear is completely warranted and ratcheted up several notches because of an actual event.
It all started about a month ago. I was out in the garden innocently picking a couple of tomatoes, an jalapeño, and a handful of cilantro to make fresh pico de gallo for lunch. (Mmm … pico). It was when I reached down to cut some cilantro that the Evil was unleashed and my world came crashing down upon me.
First, I heard a rustling of the leaves on the pumpkin vines, which are adjacent to the cilantro. Then I saw the pumpkin vines visibly shake in conjunction with the rustling. Imagine my horror when I realized that the shaking and rustling were coming straight towards me. Before I knew what was happening, the Evil ran right between my flip flopped feet.
Evil. Unleashed. In my garden. The horror.
Personally, I believe that Evil comes in all shapes and forms. This particular brand of evil came in the form of a bunny rabbit. A very scary and intense bunny rabbit. Stop laughing and look at this photo.
Gah. I can’t even talk about it without having heart palpitations and the beginnings of hyperventilation. I despise Evil cavorting right between my flip flops.
Okay. Maybe the bunny in my garden is less of a fang bearing vampire rabbit in the above photo that I found online and more like this gentle creature than I originally led you to believe.
All I’m saying is that it would have been nice, polite even, if this bunny had announced itself before shooting out from under a bunch of vines between my feet, therefore scaring the bejeezus out of me. And in my fright, I dropped my tomatoes, man. Major bummer.
But the whole vampire bunny thing? Even though it technically didn’t happen, it totally could. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.