Reflections on a Garden Hat

Every gardener has one.  Those who are conscious of the sun and safety while toiling in the rows are fully aware of the dangers and have an appropriate head covering.  At least that is what my friend Tom says.  He should know as when he is out and about he is usually covered from the tip of his nose to his steel toed boots.   He practices what he preaches.

Me, on the other hand, have had this little straw hat for several years, where it had graced the little alcove next to the piano sitting prettily - more decoration than practical headgear.  It was fairly pristine,  until that fateful day I realized that I had reached the age where being dewy and sun kissed had it's disadvantages, and that ignoring the dangers from the elements was resulting in my dewy freshness looking more like a prune and being sun kissed now came with a cancer warning.   Plus I had just spent a small fortune on my hair and dire warnings of what would happen to my processed locks from my hair dresser, if I did not cover up, were still ringing in my ears; so I grabbed the hat from it's indoor perch and screwed it onto my head before venturing out into the garden.

Alas,that was the day when my poor hat suffered the ignominy of ignominies.

A sunny summer day, weeds masquerading as a lawn, a grumbling and spitting lawnmower and an errant gust of wind sent my hat sailing off my head and fluttering ribbons and all onto the ground, only to be immediately sucked up into the blades of my trusty John Deere leaving a mangled mess of straw and red checked ribbon in its wake.

I did the only thing that a practical gardener would do.  Re-purpose the hat.  Round again I went and ran over it again.  At least three or four times.  Mulch.  I did notice a while later that an enterprising robin had grabbed a piece or two or ribbon and had incorporated them into it's nest.  A bright bit of color tucked away up above in the branches.  And there so went my hat!