The Bucket of Death

It's 5:30 in the morning and Garden Tour Day. By 10, the garden Katz and I have been working on for two months will start to fill with garden lovers who will ooh and aah about my near-perfect garden.

I spoke with my sister Kathy in New York yesterday. She had a garden tour of her own a couple of years ago and I asked her advice. She told me to learn a few Latin names--just a few will do, she said--and then I could impress my garden guests.

"Grab them by the arm and say, 'Oh, come and see my Echinacea,' and then when you get there, they say, 'Oh, a coneflower,' but they're impressed with how knowledgeable you are."

Isn't she funny! Sorry Kathy. I'm guessing Latin is probably a nice touch in up state NY but I'm quite sure they'll laugh at me in plain old Wisconsin if I try it, so I skipped memorizing Latin botanical names last night in favor of collapsing on the couch.

She did give me a great idea about my Japanese beetle problem. I'm on year two of dealing with these nasty little plant attackers, and wouldn't you know it, they've managed to time their yearly arrival to Garden Tour Day. I spent yesterday bending the heads of my small shrub roses over a pail and shaking the quite beautiful insects loose. When I was lucky, they kept their upside down position and flew straight into the soapy water that awaited them. In the end, I had dozens of dead beetles floating in a pail I've come to call "The Bucket of Death."

Kathy said not to worry. She said to share my beetle problem with the tour goers. "They love when you have the same problems they do."

Isn't that brilliant? Isn't that the best way to face a problem--any problem--by being honest, by avoiding the weight of trying to hide it, by appealing to the commonality that being in trouble presents?

Thanks, Kathy. I can't wait to show off my Delphinium, my Prickly Pear Cactus, my Foxglove, my Square Foot Garden, and now my Japanese Beetle. I'm even tempted to show off the "Bucket of Death," too, to prove what lengths we gardeners go to to maintain the beauty of our gardens and protect the plants we nurture and love.

I actually think such a visual would be a hit, but aah, then vanity intrudes. Today is a day for beauty and the bucket full of dirty water and rotting beetle corpses is not quite the "staging" I've been envisioning. But I do plan on doing one thing: I'm looking forward to grabbing my guests by the arm, adapting a mournful pose, and saying, "Come see the Popillia Japonica. The little critters are nothing but trouble!"

How's that for impressing them with my Latin!