Yep I couldn’t think of anything to write so I went out to my favorite daily prompt site. Please don’t get them pulled from the internet. You know I would just keep writing anyway! The word that stood out was “Proclivity”. Now by definition this means “an inclination or predisposition”. If you know me at all you will know I have a anti PROCLIVITY, is that even a word? My proclivity is UNgardening. Which I think is the cosmic irony that I am now on a farm/ranch.
I know that my parents are sitting in heaven and laughing! I developed my anti proclivity at an early age. My Mom was in the garden getting use out of the back yard by growing a garden. She and my Dad had tried farming but it didn’t seem to get out of their systems even after moving to the city.
Insert old farm pictures here – maybe.
I remember Mom picking slugs off the tomato plants, digging up worms and generally making gardening (to me anyway) as unappealing as possible. Worms? Slugs? DIRT?!?!? NEVER!. Until now, like I said cosmic irony.
I have an older brother who went in the military right out of high school. Which meant that when Mom and Dad went to see him in Germany, I was still in school.
I have a little brother but Mom knowing me so well, he stayed with a neighbor. I was given orders:
- Water the strawberry bed
- Weed the strawberry bed
- Use the brand new Chevy Suburban ONLY IN DIRE EMERGENCY!
OK, I guess I should have been grateful that she didn’t plant a whole garden. But once the keys were in my hand EVERYTHING became a dire emergency, everything that is except the strawberry beds. Out of MILK? Well, that is an emergency. Late for school? Oh, that was definitely an emergency. EVERYBODY needed a ride home from the football game? Well, we couldn’t have all of those girls (and guys) walking home after dark, right? You get the gist of what happened.
Mom and Dad were gone about 6 weeks. Somewhere around week 5 1/2, it dawned on me that the strawberry bed had been just a little neglected. Just a little neglect, nothing I couldn’t fix. Right? WRONG?
I got on a sun top and shorts (it was the 70’s, tan was still in!). And I set about pulling weeds. My sharp mind told me that if I watered the bed the weeds that had taken over would be easier to pull. Now I am in the mud on my hands and knees pulling weeds like crazy. Being so VERY proud of my self. Mom would never know anything about the neglected strawberry beds. Our neighbor who also put in a garden every year came to the back gate and leaned on it while asking “What you doing, Chrissy?” Well, couldn’t he tell? I looked up and said with authority “I am WEEDING!”.
His laugh could be heard all over the block. Which is why his wife came to see what was the matter. “Chrissy, You are pulling up the strawberry plants and leaving the weeds!” By this time most of what I had pulled up had wilted and looked rather brown.
He and his wife tried to help me replant the survivors. I don’t think Mom got even a quart of strawberries. I have to say that it came in a sorry second to when Mom checked the mileage on the car… but that is another story!
Proclivity: an inclination or predisposition… for trouble. That is ME!
Stories that take me from city girl to country woman 
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