mary, mary quite contrary...

Even though I’ve reached the ripe old age of Never-You-Mind, I still haven’t figured out this nursery rhyme. My tattered copy of The Complete Mother Goose doesn’t help at all. I want to know why Mary was so contrary.

Maybe it had something to do with the fact that she was gardening. That I get. I could be the Mary in “Mary, Mary quite contrary, how does your garden grow?” Only my response would more like this: with weeds galore and more in store and ten dirty toes in a row.

Never mind we haven’t had rain in, well, I’m getting to old to remember any more. Never mind that I have four little boys who want to “help.” And never mind that my hose doesn’t quite reach to the newly-moved garden that needed more sun.

And yes, I know the solution to problem number three is an easy fix - Wal-Mart is only five miles away. But, have you ever walked inside a store that contains Oreos, baseball cards and squirt guns with four boys? I’d rather lug my watering can with the broken nozzle to each little garden bed to refresh some not-so-fresh looking peppers and cabbage. (That problem also has a solution called Wal-Mart, but...)

Problem one I can’t fix. Problem two I can’t either. Well, I tried and I gave up. Well, okay I didn’t try very hard.

I had this BRIGHT idea that four boys could have fun planting their own rows next to my garden with the seeds I had left over. But it took some doing.

First the ground was too hard. Then it was too hot. Then it was too cold. Then I just didn’t feel like it. Hubby got the ground tilled up (for the second time) for me, or rather for them.

I figured the boys could experience some real-life science, real-life chores and maybe even some real-life sweat. Who knew you could get so much out of one simple little project? Like procrastination, irritation, bug bites and sunburn. It’s enough to water MY garden, let alone four more hodge-podge rows of who knows what. Because of course, then comes the weeding. (I can almost hear the whining already and see all the dirt clods getting thrown around. I’m raising boys, can you tell? Anything can turn into a war and then into a wrestling match.)

I think I know why Mary was contrary.

She probably needed a hammock in the shade and a few servants to tend her garden. And, I’m guessing she didn’t have rows of watermelon, pumpkin, two beans, one huge mass of carrots where the seed packet got dumped out and a puny little tomato that got trampled, twice.

Remember, she had pretty maids all in a row. I have pretty dirty faces all in a row. Well seriously I don’t know if you can even call them rows - they sort of zig and zag a bit. But, they’re labeled whose is whose with favorite rocks and sticks and even a hoe handle.

Now they want to plant apple seeds and raisins and whole dandelion heads. It wouldn’t surprise me a bit if one of the littler boys got planted, head first.

If I’m being honest, my life isn’t much different than Mary the Contrary. I make big plans. I get crabby about said plans. I work, work, work to get plans done, but do not enjoy one single second of the work. And then I find something more to plan.

The good news is that God has a funny way of tapping you on the shoulder sometimes and forcing you to smell the dirt clod that just got thrown in your face. After you get the grit out of your mouth, be sure to look around closely. You might just find four delighted boys poking holes in dirt, babbling non-stop about what their row contains and how they’re going to eat an entire watermelon this summer.

And you know what? They can eat the whole thing. Life’s too short to be contrary. Or stingy. The four boys God planted in my life are more fun than silver bells and cockle shells.

That’s how my garden grows.