Wednesday, July 15, 2015

Itching to Get Out in the Yard

My husband treats me like a fragile flower.
It's not that he thinks I can't do things, but he thinks that I shouldn't have to.
I'll  hoist a trash bag out of the can and head toward the back alley. "Paulita, I'll get that!" he calls.
If I'm scooting past him in the kitchen with a basket of laundry toward the basement, he'll say, "I'll take care of that."
Outdoor work, dishes, laundry, my husband quickly jumps in to take care of it.
But a lot of times, his hard-working ethic and attitude make me feel like I'm lazy.
So last week, I decided to tackle an outdoor job.
Our front yard is a waterfall of ivy down to a stone enclosed flowerbed.
Here's a shot of the vines flowing down the hill behind this blooming gladiola.
The surrounding trees often decide to plant their seeds in the ivy, so small trees begin to grow up. I wanted to cut down the trees and assorted weeds to clean up the ivy.
Wearing shorts and a tshirt, plus a pair of garden gloves, I  picked my way over the ivy pulling up weeds and sawing down tiny trees. I filled up a trash can that we use for yard waste before I threw in my trowel.
No one in my family noticed my gardening efforts, but I felt proud that I helped in my own way.
Then a couple days later, a bug bite began to itch, and when I examined the bites on my left arm, I realized that poison ivy had sprouted from my gardening efforts.
Now I'm busy applying alcohol to my rash, but it seems to keep popping up in new places. The first of the blisters have appeared on my right arm now and a couple on my leg.
What really bugs me, in addition to the itching, is that it doesn't all show up at once. It takes its time making an appearance.
This morning at the Y, an old man asked, "What happened to your arm?'
"Oh, it's just poison ivy," I said dismissively.
"Stay away from me!" he said.
"Poison ivy is only spread through the plant oils," I told him.
"It looks kind of juicy," he said. He actually said that. "Juicy."
For the record, it's not; it just looks gross.
Having learned my lesson, I won't be doing any more yard work. These poison ivy blisters might leave some permanent scars on my arms. Usually, when I get poison ivy, I end up at the doctor to get steroids. My body treats poison ivy like a wildfire, allowing it to spread fast and in all directions. I'm must be especially sensitive to it.
I'll still carry out the trash and the recycling, but I did ask my husband if he wouldn't mind doing the laundry, just to make sure that I didn't get any more of the poison ivy oil on my skin.
Maybe I am a fragile flower after all.

7 comments:

Sim Carter said...

Oh my! Is that some sort of karmic response to your attitude about your husband's overly helpful ways?!
I guess next time you'll know to pass him the laundry basket from the get go and settle back with a glass of lemonade and a good book! Btw, in all seriousness, your Earl sounds like a real prince. He's a keeper.

(Diane) Bibliophile By the Sea said...

You poor girl:( I used to get poison ivy every summer at one home we lived - gardening near a wooded area and indoor/outdoor cats were the cause. I was a mess --steroids too.

Now with our condo and indoor only cats -- problem solved.

You are very lucky your husband is so helpful.

Just Me said...

Sweet Earl what a prince. Btw poison can spread from contact to hands, clothing and bedding. But I'm guessing you know that seeing that you get it every year. Hope your day in the yard filled your spirit.

Just Me said...

I love ivy. I had to come back to admire that picture of the gladiola and ivy. Glorious

Paulita said...

Thanks, Just Me. I'm oozing poison ivy. Do you want another look at that?

Just Me said...

HaHaHa!

Anne in Oxfordshire said...

A very sweet gesture by Earl .we all have a sense of fragility within us. I have read your other posts and your plans to move to France (hopefully) I am sure you will.xx

Oh Paulita ..you are far from lazy. You do so much.

I now have to dig deep and find my confidence ..to venture forward on my own. Unfortunately my husband has other ideas of how he wants to spend the next phase of his life. Xx

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