Poor William’s Whims

My Garden Mistress

By POOR WILLIAM

Poor William with his Garden Mistress. Photo by The Delta Bohemian

Jeez, there goes Poor William again with some off-the-wall stuff. What say ye Poor William, you have a mistress?

Yes, and I feel shame everyday as I fondle rosemary, rub my tomatoes, stroke my burpless cucumber, bend my banana pepper, and love on an array of other veggies, herbs, and flowers. I just can’t help myself.

When Magical Madge, my bride of ever-increasing mythical proportions asked me where I have been, I blush, look at my feet, rock side-to-side, and whisper, “You know, Honey; I am so sorry!” I have been in the backyard again–lusting, surveying and loving on all God has watered, shined sun upon, and caused to grow.

Poor William remembers walking at night down West Second Street as a child with his mom, Martha Jane. Vividly, he recalls asking her why a particular CEO and family friend would be out in the dark watering his yard by hand at his White House size brick crib. MJ said, “Because that is his stress relief.”

Years later, Poor William would find himself in a stressful management position, whereby he alleviated his stress by also watering his yard at night by hand. It was in New Mexico at an elevation of 4,200 feet, so skeeters were not a problem.

Roundman was a farmer and Poor William would often work during the summers in his farm garden–one that would produce bushel upon bushel of peas, beans, etc. He spent many a childhood evening sitting in his folks’ bedroom shelling peas and watching shows like All in the Family, The Jeffersons, Happy Days, and Carol Burnett. Life was simple and good then. Archie, Edith, George, Weezie, Fonzie, and even Ralph Mouth are missed! He digresses; back to the garden wench!

Poor William decided to plant a garden this year, in large part due to his having changed his lifestyle. He now eats fresh foods and raw vegetables, and he has always been a tomato and marinated cucumber head. He is also re-doing his backyard pond, which adds to his desire to spend time with his mistress, yet in full purview of his lovely bride. He has a garden and a wife on the side.

Also, he has been working a few hours a week at Miss Del’s Garden Center in downtown Clarksdale. He has not made a penny mind you; he has eaten up all the profits. Nary a day has gone by that he has not brought home more plants and garden paraphernalia than his paycheck could support. Clark Street Jack Bobo, garden center manager, refers to Poor William as his best customer.

When innkeeper Poor William returns from setting out breakfast at the Clark House Residential Inn early every morning, he is almost ecstatic about coming straight home, getting a big-ass glass of Kangen water, and walking among his plants, noticing new growth, pinching suckers from the tomato plants, running his hands over herbs in order to get that “herby” smell on his hands, and watering every plant with tender care, like he would want to be watered–y’all know Poor William has a thing for snow and water–check out Mr. June this week!

Occasionally, he will look up and the Magical One will be in the kitchen or office, watching him caress his mistress in all her early-morning splendor. She knows he is aroused, randy, and likely to transfer those feelings to her–inside the house. Aah, the life of a gardener and the life of a gardener’s wife. She don’t seem to mind!

He feels like the boy who got his hand caught in the proverbial cookie jar and feels shame as if he got caught looking through Angelina Jolie’s panty drawer. Stop it guys, you know you thought it too, and some of you chicks thought the same thing! In the infamously borrowed words of Wild Bill Clinton, “I did not go through Angelina’s panty drawer.”

Madge one day joked, “I believe you love that garden more than me?” Poor William’s response, “No way Baby, just think, if I love this garden this much and it is alive but not human, then how much more am I going to love one of God’s two greatest blessings to me–my children being the other one.

Man, I love my pond and garden, but that pails in comparison to my love for my wife, who has immeasurably changed my life. But, “Baby, could you rub a little tarragon and basil behind your ears? You know it makes me “randy’ Baby.

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