Grandpa and the Garden Fairies...

     ...The rains have stopped their deluge and the warm, sunshiny days of summer are upon us.  Lots of gardening clean-up going on here at Johnson House.  I'm a month behind on getting the gardens whipped into shape due to the extreme rainy conditions of our wet, wet spring.  I know I've kicked into summer mode when I start thinking about spray painting stuff.  My friends all tease me about my spray painting ventures.  When in doubt, spray it gold!  That's a bit of Grandma Jesse in me.  She was notorious for gold leafing things.  She restored antique furniture.  Jesse was a flower arranger, too.  Her basement shelves were lined with all kinds of containers for that purpose.  And she had no qualms at spraying any of them gold when it served her purpose.  One of my friends once gave me a whole carton of gold spray paint as a joke.  Not funny to me, I was thrilled!  I just hope the authorities don't think I'm huffing the metallic paint!  And so, I find myself dragging out wonderful stuff I've been storing for future garden decoration purposes to begin the painting fun.  Ah, summer!
     As I work in the herb beds tearing out giant weeds and miss placed garden poacher plants I am reminded of the garden fairies and the trouble I got into because of them.  One day several years ago a friend stopped by with her little grand-daughter to visit my gardens.  As we walked through the gardens I told them about each of the plants and identified each for them.  The little girl noticed that there were a few places in the garden along the walkway that looked as though someone had scratched up some of the soil and left it scattered along the stepping stones.  Without hesitation I glibbly said, "Oh, that must be the work of the garden fairies.  They are so ornery!  I just cleaned that up and look how they have messed it up for me again."  The child's eyes grew wide as saucers as she stammered, "Garden fairies?  Are they here?  Will they hurt us?"  I realized that I had scared her with my comment.  "No, sweetheart.  They are just ornery and like to cause mischief.  They think it's funny to mess up the garden after I have worked to clean it up."  The grandmother did her best to hide her snickers behind her hand while I ruthlessly spun my tale of the activities of the fairies in my garden.  Now, I'll stop here to let you know that my grandfather is the one who is really responsible for me being such a spinner of tall tales.  At the drop of a hat Les would tell the most outrageous stories and make you believe them.  And I am Grandpa's girl, just like him in that respect.  It must be something genetic with us.  There are times when I cannot control that streak of orneriness.  That's when I usually get myself into some of the most ridiculous situations imaginable.  And so it went with the garden fairy tale.  My friend and her grand-daughter went home after a bit, and I thought that was the end of the tale.  But not so!  Later that night I got a call from my friend.  Her grand-daughter was having nightmares about garden fairies trying to get her.  I had to talk to the little girl on the phone and explain that the fairies wouldn't get her.  They were just being silly and like to tease me by messing up my garden.  I let her know that they were only a few inches tall and that they couldn't hurt her.  Then I had to promise that I would come over to her grandma's house and plant a fairy garden to make them happy in case they came to visit her.  Then they would be her friends.  The child was calmed down and she trusted that I would take care of everything for her.  When her grandmother got back on the phone she asked, "By the way, just how did your garden soil get scattered around like that?"  "Now, weren't you listening before?  Garden fairies.  That's what caused the whole problem to begin with," I told her.  There was a brief silence, then "Okay.  If you say so."  I chuckled and said to her, "What...you don't believe in garden fairies?  Gosh, you being Irish, I would have thought that would be an easy one for you."  ...And so, the tradition of tall tales being spun at Johnson House continues.  This one's for you, Grandpa.  Still your girl after all these years...