Calling All Gardening Cabbies with Hemorrhoids!
I wasn't going to write a post for this fair because I have honestly confessed that I have no green thumb. Then I thought I could sit here and talk about how if a plant in my garden can't survive on it's own then I will only hasten its demise by attempting to nurture it, but what's lovely about that? No... as it says over there on the side, my blog is a personal trainer for the Pollyanna who lives in my head but never gets off the couch! So come on Polly...up and at 'em!
There is a bright spot in my garden that I actually added myself (with the help of Husband's hunky muscles). What is it you might ask? A bulb, a bush, maybe a tree? Hee, hee! You're so funny! Something that climbs perhaps? Nope.
You might have noticed it weathering the strange white stuff that kept falling from the sky this winter. Or keeping a watchful eye on our first attempt at growing things.
He doesn't grow and he doesn't climb. He has no roots or leaves or branches but he is the highlight of our garden. Shortcake dubbed him "Jo- fuss" when he first graced our garden. BigBoy called him "Jesus" at first, but now believes he is St. Joseph and gives him kisses when we come home. His name is actually St. Fiacre, although I am sure he has accepted being mistaken for more recognizable saints by now. I won't tell you what a steal I got him for at the local Stuf-mart because not even the manager could find the price or his name. How much? I'll take 2!
He is the patron saint of many people including gardeners, taxi drivers, florists, box makers, and people suffering from hemorrhoids. Not quite sure what the connection is there. The cabbies claimed him back in 1648 when a man ran a "carriage for hire" stand in front of the Hotel de St. Fiacre. Pretty soon all coaches in Paris were called "fiacres". His garden was a miraculous one in both how he acquired it and the healings it yielded. So remember...Fiacre for flora and Francis for fauna.
For a little more information on St. Fiacre you can read about him here, here and here. The Washington Post also has a funny article about this lesser known Irish saint who stands tall in the shrubs and the shadow of that other guy from the Emerald Isle.