Garden of Eve

Sometimes the heat brings out the nastiest of little creatures – spider mites. It’s been over 80 degrees in Seattle this week, making my green garden warmer than normal. It seems no matter how many times I sulphur my basement, sterilize the equipment, bleach the garden floors, walls, buckets -- those little fuckers manage to find their way in. Prevention is always key – no people, pets or outside clothing should make contact with the garden gals. But shit happens, and so do bugs. You know you’ve been infested when little flecks of gold spots appear on the fan leaves. Mites suck the sweet underbelly leaf juice, gorging themselves to fuel their activity: laying millions, gazillion of tiny little mite eggs every three days. If in your garden inspections you find any kind of “web”, you should immediately remove and destroy the plant. I’ve heard of some people taking a high-pressure hose to the leaves, and then spraying with Neem Oil or Green Cure (a prepackaged powder mix avai...

I don’t normally get high before going to church, but I had just come from a business meeting about weed, so naturally I smoked weed. I’m not a real religious person, but I attend services regularly because I get to see my pretty 22 year-old daughter. Since she moved away to an evangelical Christian college on the Eastside of Seattle, it’s pretty much the only time I can see her. So I go to church, and usually the two of us go to lunch after service. I meet her at our usual pew and I look in her eyes to see if she can see that I’m higher than the overhead teleprompters.  Somehow she always knows, but I pray she doesn't give me that disappointed look. Just then the entire congregation jumps to its feet, singing joyful, modern Christian rock songs to a real life boy band – complete with tight, skinny jeans and Justin Bieber hair styles. Sometimes I secretly lust after the lead singer, wondering how much he sins, although I’m pretty sure I’m the one that’ll be going ...

My babies, as photographed by Nathan Griffith  Mom shows up with the usual bag of groceries – coffee creamer, toilet paper and packaged lunch meat. What every single woman lives on.  I lead her into the kitchen where I set the bag down.  We settle into my small but adorable living room, sip flavored coffee and catch up on the latest family gossip. My cousin is unwed and knocked up, she says, with a gleen in her eye, thankful it isn’t one of  her  kids. Eventually she asks how my “event planning” job is progressing. Will they offer me a full-time job so I can get health insurance? She says women my age need breast exams and colonoscopies, and I agree. But they won’t be offering any health care because I don’t work for the event planning company. Never did. There was no easy way to say it, so I blurted it out, “Mom, I’ve been growing pot for a while, and I’m really happy. Cannabis saves lives, and I only work with the best dispensaries. I really don’t t...