How do you lose a gardening tool? A useful, necessary gardening tool?
As a kitchen analogy, I remember a few years ago noticing that our collection of stainless flatware (service for eight) was missing a few forks. How could that happen?
Cranky had a theory. A good one. He speculated that the forks had been spirited into the trash, accidentally and at different times, by having been mingled with the used artichoke leaves. It made sense. We always ended up with what literally looks like a gallon of leaves in a big stainless bowl at the end of a meal. They just got dumped unceremoniously into the trash (this was before we were composting). Nobody would notice the tiny glint of metal, hiding in the foliage, sliding into the garbage bag.
I choose to stick to that explanation, because anything else I can come up with is too exotic, too mentally ill, too embarrassing.
And that's how I decided to explain the missing weeding tool. It wasn't fancy. Even had a few rust spots. But it worked, all the time, and we weren't inclined to toss it.
It must have "tossed itself" into the yard waste barrel, all tangled up in dandelions. When I weed, I take a big plastic bucket with me and move it from place to place, collecting the detritus. At the end of my weeding session, I incautiously (I guess) toss the contents into the barrel. Bye-bye, tool.
Well, it's perfect weather for weeding. Now. Today. Wet ground and clear, sunny skies. I needed a weeder. Cranky bought two. ("One's a backup," he suggested helpfully. "Hell no," I said. "We're doing tandem work, my dear.")
So, you see these tools? With the beautifully enameled red shaft, such a color? And the hippie Renaissance Faire dye work on the wood handles? Don't want to lose these.
I do wish I hadn't lost the really strong, butch, green-handled trowel, though. It probably went out in the barrel too. We got a replacement, but it's just not the same.
Cranky thinks he might be able to find one with a multi-dyed handle.