THE FANATIC


 It was Saturday.

My favoritist of days. On most wintertime Saturdays I get comfortable in the recliner with my coffee, my hound dog Satchel and a Bugs Bunny cartoon (don’t judge me I love cartoons) but on this day I was told in no uncertain terms to ‘get up off of that thang’ as it was time to go. 

Sigh. 


My job is to do whatever she tells me to do, and to do it efficiently with great zeal and dispatch. 


So, we load the truck and head off to the Gardens at Brookdale, where herself is conducting yet another class—todays lesson— seed starting, is a follow on to her  previous classes on pollinators, composting, early spring planting and yada yada yada, E-I-E-I-O. 


I’m not going to say she’s enthusiastic about these classes, I’m not going to say she enjoys this whole gardening gig, but I will say that she attacks this madness as if her hair were on fire. Rather, in an efficient manner with great dispatch and zeal. 


She’s a fanatic. 


Planting seeds of fanaticism like Johnny Damn Appleseed. She’s Shameless. She’s Relentless. She has No ‘Regrats’ ( ha ha, assuming y’all have seen the tattoo picture on the innerweb)and takes no prisoners—she’s Susan the Seed Starter and she’s coming to a garden near you! 

It is her world and I just live in it. There are moments when I’m not sure I recognize who this person is, but then I realize that she’s a fanatic. Keep your mouth shut and do what she says and nobody gets hurt. 

Today’s class has 40 attendees, and it seems that each class has gotten larger. The Fanatic loves this. 


It is also as cold as a witches you know what in a brass you know what and the thermometer mercury has dropped 10 degrees since we arrived. Such is the weather here in Middle Georgia in February. It will drive one to drink; but don’t drink and drive. 


Presently it occurs to me to ask the question if we will be seed starting doo-lollys, because mine have frozen off. 

But I digress. 


Did I mention that She’s a fanatic? She’s the exact same way in the backyard garden when it is just she and I. I’ve learned a lot just by being in her bursting radius. I swear to Allah that when she gets to talking she gets so animated and excited that I expect the following to occur at any second:

  1. She will break out in song and recite a chorus from ‘Oklahoma!’
  2. Dance

  C. Levitate


In the midst of her fervor, her zeal, her passion, I nearly scream “Hallelujah” and if I had a funeral home fan I’d surely be fanning myself despite the chill. 


I’m kidding. Sorta. 


This girl of mine is a force of nature, and I’m just proud to have a window seat because I’m a fan in a fanatic sort of way—With great dispatch and zeal. 


But don’t tell her that. 


Class is over and if I don’t help close up shop I’m liable to get dispatched in my doo-lollys. 


Y’all go get your seeds started. 

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