By Jill Sisson Quinn

不少人陶醉于園藝之樂，看著自己親手栽培的花草樹木或者瓜果蔬菜長勢喜人，總會有種滿滿的幸福感和滿足感。但也有人拙于園藝，卻又固執(zhí)地愛著那片園子，因?yàn)槟抢镉兄鵁o窮的樂趣和驚喜，就像魯迅先生筆下的百草園，等待著一顆閑適的心和一雙善于發(fā)現(xiàn)的眼睛……

I am a horrible gardener. I try to blame my repeated 1）dearth of tomatoes on Wisconsins short growing season， but its more due to the fact that I do not like fences. Each year I set out the largest seedlings I can find as early as I can， only to see their leaves lopped off by some hungry 2）critter the first week of June. Then I watch them play catchup all summer， a race of frost against fruit.

I dont even 3）shoo away my own dog. When the tomatoes finally do appear， she picks them alongside me with her jowls， lofts them in the air， jumps on them where they land， and then， when they dont jump back， loses interest. She shoulders through cucumber plants so crowded the cucumbers are white as cave crickets under the shade of the leaves until she is virtually harnessed to the vines. She disappears into the 4）raspberry bush and digs a hole there to cool off.

I forget to 5）stake peas. They climb up the garden hose I have attached to a sprinkler on a pipe， and later， suffer when I need to use the hose for something else， and slide it out of its sleeve of pea plant， which falls over like a vegetative cyclone. I plant whole rows of seeds that never appear， leaving a strange gap in the middle of my garden as if the three sisters on one side—the corn， beans and 6）squash—have drawn a line down the middle of their bedroom， at odds with the strangling cucumbers and struggling peppers and tomatoes on the other.

Despite my low 7）aptitude， I spend a lot of time in the garden examining the weeds I pull up， finding， once， a song sparrows nest full of eggs， and many times toads and shiny blister beetles and glacier-smoothed stones and artifacts of nails and barbed wire from the barn that used to stand on my garden plot.

I pick what grows and dont fret too much over what doesnt. I think often about what I should have done， what I will do next year but inevitably dont， because here is the truth. I would rather be a gatherer than a gardener. I prefer even the language of gathering. I would rather roam and wander， discover and remember than plan， 8）till， plant， thin， stake， weed， water， tend and 9）prune. I have five million years of hunting and gathering in my brain that 10，000 years of agriculture cant knock out of me. Thus I sew my hybrid passion. A garden as 10）unruly as a forest edge， a place where like my dog and the deer and the rabbits I know must 11）traverse there. I can disappear in the 12）unbridled 13）foliage， and maybe， just maybe， come out with something to sustain me.

我是個不稱職的園丁。我試圖將番茄的屢次不產(chǎn)歸咎于威斯康辛那短暫的生長季節(jié)，但真正的原因在于我不喜歡在園子圍籬笆。每年我總是找來最大的幼苗，早早地種植在菜園里。結(jié)果，在六月的第一個星期就眼睜睜看著它們的葉子被某只饑腸轆轆的動物啃去。接著，整個夏天，我看著它們“你追我趕”地生長著，仿佛都想趕在霜凍來臨之前結(jié)出果實(shí)。

我甚至也不噓聲趕走我的狗。當(dāng)番茄果實(shí)最終結(jié)出時，她在我身旁用下顎摘下果實(shí)，將其高高拋向空中，待果實(shí)“著陸”后，沖過去跳上跳下的，發(fā)現(xiàn)它們并沒像她一樣跳起，便失去了興趣。黃瓜果實(shí)累累，在葉子的襯托下白花花如穴螽。她用肩膀推開黃瓜前進(jìn)，直到她被密集的瓜藤繞得幾乎脫不了身。她消失在覆盆子叢中，在里面挖了個洞來乘涼。

我忘記給豌豆搭支架，它們爬上了我裝在水管灑水裝置上的花園軟管。當(dāng)我要用軟管時，它們就遭罪了。我將軟管從豆藤形成的“袖子”中抽出，豆藤“嘩”地散落下來，像一場植物形成的旋風(fēng)。我播種了好幾排從不生長的種子，因此在菜園中間留下一片突兀的空地，看起來就像在一邊的三姐妹——玉米、大豆和南瓜——在房間中間畫了一條“三八線”，與另一邊纏纏繞繞的黃瓜、掙扎著生長的辣椒和番茄顯得格格不入。

盡管天資愚笨，我還是花了大量的時間在菜園里。我會觀察拔出來的雜草，有一次發(fā)現(xiàn)了一個裝滿蛋的歌雀窩，好幾次找到蟾蜍、亮閃閃的斑蝥、被冰川打磨光滑的石頭，還有谷倉的釘子和帶刺鐵絲網(wǎng)這些人工制品（我的菜園以前曾被用作谷倉）。

我摘下長出的果實(shí)，并不過于擔(dān)憂那些不結(jié)果的植物。我經(jīng)常思考自己本應(yīng)該要做什么事，明年又該做什么事（但肯定不會做），因?yàn)槭聦?shí)是這樣的：我寧愿做采集者而非園丁。我更喜歡采集的語言。我情愿閑逛漫游，去發(fā)現(xiàn)，去記憶，也不愿計劃、耕作、種植、間苗、搭架、除草、澆水、照管和修剪。五百萬年的狩獵采集經(jīng)驗(yàn)在我腦海中根深蒂固，區(qū)區(qū)一萬年的農(nóng)業(yè)史根本無法替代。因此，我懷著并不純粹的熱情去播種。我的菜園如同森林的邊緣一樣無序，這是一個我的狗狗、野鹿以及兔子必定會橫跨的地方。我可以消失在瘋長的作物中，或許，僅僅是或許，帶著能使我生存下去的東西回來。