An Iowa Garden

As related recently, I'm currently engaged in my annual weed pulling marathon (which this rainy year might better be called "garden re-discovery"). I always snort when I read some gardener prattling about how they love weeding... one afternoon in my garden would sober them up! I've been meaning for some time to take the plunge and get an IPod to help relieve the boredom while plugging away out there (I also want to get one because I can see the handwriting on the technological wall; the last time I was in Best Buy, the c.d. department had shrunk by half... I'm determined not to have the plump teenagers behind the counter laugh at me again, as they did a few years ago when I asked them where the VCR tapes were). As things stand currently, during the endless hours of weeding, I have far too much time to think, and nothing very bright to think about. That would explain my revery today, when I was weeding with bare hands, and grabbed ahold of a smilax (greenbriar) vine. While I was standing there with my hand in my armpit until the pain stopped, I started wondering if cats really are killed by curiosity... I mean, how else do you explain why we aren't knee-deep in cats? Now, I say this as a cat-lover... after all, our older cat Sadie is still a valued member of the family, even though when she's being ignored she likes to sidle up to you while you're at the kitchen counter, and gently sink her claws in your lower leg to get your attention. Even our friend Hanne, who is every cat's friend (she's always sending out urgent e-mails telling of some tabby cat with one ear, who's currently living in a bush, but might become socialized if adopted by the right family, who are up on their tetanus shots)... even Hanne could only say about Sadie, "Well, she's a pill." At any rate, I realized that wayward curiosity is not confined to cats, for I was reading some gal's posting on a message board today about cracking open a mud dauber's nest and looking at all the spiders inside (the person in question was obviously from the South, as she called them "dobbers"). This actually wouldn't be as risky as it sounds, as the spiders are paralyzed, and the mud daubers don't defend their nest, but I doubt she knew that... but then, she also probably didn't know that black widows are the preferred spider for the blue mud dauber to seal in their nest. However, I don't have any room to feel superior about this; earlier while I was weeding, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a large insect disappear down a round hole in the ground. I was poised to dig it up with my trowel to see what it was, when a yellow jacket buzzed out.