A Garden of Neurosis

I have a gan-green thumb. Oh yes, I can grow any little herbage in my wickedly fickle garden of irrational delights.

1. Foxglove, actually digitalis. A stimulant when the heart is under threat. This towering condo is full up with adjustment disorders; creative compulsiveness, bi-polarism, hypertension, palpitations; anxieties spinning like ferris wheels from three thirtyish to five fortyish a.m. Trepidation hypomania.
2. Forget-me-nots grow like weeds in this garden; fear of rejection, yada, yada, yada.
3. Daisy’s, of course, with their spikey “pluck-me-nots” house irritations and mood swings. They’re just so darn perky yet crush so easily.
4. Lilies, cleverly three lobed, grow from bulbs. Oh my, deep rooted apprehension and fear of being naked.
5. Blanket flowers have multi-colored petals, rough edged. They go to seed in spiked balls resembling demented clouds… multiple personalities on crack.
6. Columbine. Lovely columbines, curled, fragile petals with tails—definitely self image issues.
7. Iris’s so exotic and yet top heavy. Spanked with a few drops of rain, they topple… definitely hyper-phobic.
8. Pansies. Need I say more? They somehow, sweetly, mirror a crazy set of inferiority complexes.

Gardening is a soothing, get-dirty-with-nature, feel good exercise. You plant seeds, water them a little and your flower bed fills with blossoms of intense color and scent that lasts a short few months of warm sunshine. Glorious life in full splendor. Having said all this, I think I’ll sleep well tonight. So thanks for a sabbatical from chronic insomnia. I owe ya.