06/03/2007

The View from Sunnybank

Bugged gardener whacks gnats

By Dee Blair
Local columnist
dblair@
voyager.net

Read Dee's past columns here
Read Dee's Good Dirt blog

Every season, visitors see me smack myself as I garden. In May and June, bugs bug me!

Flies, especially, find me delectable. It's not unusual to see a few dancing attendance around my nose; that protuberance is often where it shouldn't be, in a fly's opinion, like under a bush, where I sometimes discover bunny-bits discarded by the neighbor cat.

While I mop up, they do what feasting flies do best: irritate.

But more insidious beasties have discovered me: no-see-ums! These minute, stealthy horrors bite oh, so carefully, favoring one eye, and I honestly don't feel a thing until about 10 minutes later when it becomes very hard to see. Too late, I rush into the house for industrial strength cortisone cream to contain the damage. But, alas, I'm almost blind.

This makes life, for three days, annoying and difficult. The worst part, though, is how I appear to visitors. Exactly half my face looks as though I inhaled 10 meals at warp speed. It's not actually very painful, just pathetic-looking. Once again, reluctant to apply obnoxious gnat-repelling gunk, I've created my own problems.

I do own a dark, fine-mesh veil from the local camping store, which effectively covers me down to mid-chest. (Heavy cargo pants prevent biters from indulging below stairs.) The problem? It's dark in there. I wander about in a fog. Things are indistinct, colors are muted, the thin net slips and bunches, and I wind up more annoyed than ever.

The fun happens when nervous visitors get a look at me, then mutter to friends that "there must be a lot of bees in that garden; perhaps we should give it a miss.”

Fortunately, though, most will too-casually comment, "Huh. Bees really thick in the garden this year?” So I explain. Anxiety levels drop to the basement; we have a good laugh, trading stories about invisible nibblers feasting during their camping trips.

Thumbing through National Geographic's catalog this spring, I noticed a nifty lightweight, cream-colored parka designed for bug-infested people like me. Intrigued, I ordered two (one for Joe) and they really work.

The draw-stringed sleeves have airy vents right to the waist; the hood sports a mesh face panel that guarantees immunity from munchkins. Best of all, it doesn't snag bushes. But it does collect dirt. Too late, I've found green ones offered in other gardening catalogs.

This garb helps visitors figure things out without those carefully worded inquiries.

Meanwhile, folks have offered fascinating suggestions. One earnest gentleman swore by flypaper. He even marched me through my own garden, oblivious to everything but potential hanging places, enthusiastically volunteering to foot the bill for the first flypaper packet. My mind boggled; sheets of fluttering flypaper would flap invitingly amid the flowers, creating traffic jams and insect road-rage...

A thoughtful child suggested I staple flypaper strips to my hat brim to snare flies BEFORE they bite my eyes. He was delighted with himself. I promised to consider it.

I did, for a millisecond, but wandering around dangling sheets of tiny gnat corpses didn't appeal. Besides, hat-brimmed, flapping flypaper will always nail noses. It's a law of nature. (I had a mad impulse to call Paris: hat-ty haute couture designers might be lured by such "attractive” possibilities. CNN recently allowed us meat-ier mortals a peek at the eye-popping apparel worn by lengthy, skeletal women wobbling unsteadily down those Paris fashion show ramps; flypaper hats probably wouldn't turn a hair.)

Such creative solutions may fly in the face of reason, but they'll never fail to capture laughter.

Sunnybank Garden, at 325 Sixth St. in Traverse City, welcomes visitors most days from around 9 a.m. until evening. The sign out front announces open times, which may vary. Groups should call ahead (929-4351) to avoid disappointment.