What’s your pickle?

The other day, I watched an old Andy Griffith Show, the one about Aunt Bea’s pickles.  “Ya see” (that’s Andy talk) Aunt Bea made some homemade pickles, and Andy and Barney acted like they liked them, even though they hated them. The pickles were awful and tasted just like kerosene. They did this on account of they didn’t want to hurt Aunt Bea’s feelings.

Early in that episode, after Aunt Bea dropped off a plate of her pickles at the courthouse for Andy and Barney to eat, Barney turned to Andy and said, “I don’t think I can face the future knowing there are eight more quarts of these pickles out there”.

As soon as I heard that sentence, my thoughts turned to gardening, as they always do.

“I don’t think I can face the future knowing there are eight more quarts of these pickles out there.”

I wondered about some of  the “pickles” in my life and garden. What causes me to not want to face the future as long as those “pickles” are a part of it?

I suppose technically my “pickles” ought to be something that someone gave me, thinking I liked them, when really I didn’t, but I am too nice to tell them, just like Andy and Barney were too nice to tell Aunt Bea about her pickles. So I just smile and accept that “pickle” every time it’s offered. 

Really, though, I can’t think of any of those kinds of pickles. Even if I could, I wouldn’t post about them online because the “pickler-maker” might see the post, and it could hurt his or her feelings. No sir-ee, that is not somthing I’m fixin’ to do cause folks’ feelings would just get hurt unnecessarily. (More Andy talk.)

My main “pickles” right now are things that no one has control over and many other people don’t like either. But they still fit the thought expressed by Barney.  “I don’t think I can face the future knowing there are eight more quarts of these pickles out there”.

I don’t think I can face the future knowing there are more dry months ahead of us.

I don’t think I can face the future knowing there are thistle growing in my garden, taking it over.

I don’t think I can face the future knowing there are still over three months until the elections.  (Oops, that’s not related to gardening at all!)

Of course, I will face the future. But unlike Andy and Barney, I’m not going to try to get rid of my “pickles”.  Even if I could get rid of them, those “pickles” would just come back again, the same way the real pickles came back to haunt Andy and Barney.

Whatever happens, will happen. Bring it on. Bring on the “pickles”. Bring on the dry months and the thistle. I’m sure I can handle it. I’ll just water and weed. I’ll just grin and bear it, and enjoy those “pickles”.

Carol…

Yes, Dr. Hortfreud.

This must be one of the most far-reaching gardening posts you’ve ever written, comparing Aunt Bea’s pickles to stuff you don’t want to face in the future. You must have spent one too many hours out in the hot sun without enough water to drink.  I don’t think I can face the future knowing you might write more posts like this one.

Funny, Dr. Hortfreud. Very funny.  What’s your pickle?