The unbelievable gardening accident that ended well.

I hope.

I spent some time weeding one of my flower beds yesterday.  It’s finally gotten cool enough that a person can stand being outside more than absolutely necessary.  So, I’ve been catching up on my weeding, a little at a time, over the past week.

I have these flower beds—although why I’m calling them flower beds when only 2 of them have actual flowers is something we can examine later.  Anyway, I have these flower beds.  There are about 7 of them.  Two feet wide or so.  Running along the length of various portions of the house, with concrete borders.

A while back, we bought some large river rock to use as—what?—a sort of ground cover.  In lieu of mulch.  I’ll say this for the river rock.  It makes it easy to see what’s a weed and what isn’t.  Because there’s not much else planted in these beds.

We have some larger, shrub-like plants, a vinca, a ton of canna lilies, a couple of spider lilies and a hydrangea.  In the back, there’s a begonia, in a pot, sitting on top of the rocks, and a flowering shade plant whose name I cannot remember and which has yet to grow more than an inch or show any sign of flowering.  Anything else green that pokes its head up through the rocks is a weed.

I like that.  Knowledge is not required.  See a green thing.  Pull it up.

But yesterday, this lack of knowledge could have had some disastrous consequences for a baby lizard.

What happened is this.

I was weeding.  Specifically, I was pulling up dollar weed.  This is something of a losing battle.  In a defined area, however, it is possible to eliminate visible signs for a while.  If you are careful, you can also pull up a fair length of the subterranean runners.  They are tubular and white.

So, when I found a small round white ball, I thought it had something to do with the dollar weed.  I picked it up.  And then I dropped it.  By accident.

Imagine my surprise at seeing a wet and slimy baby lizard clinging to a rock after the round white ball—otherwise known as an egg—broke open.

Imagine my horror at realizing I had just played midwife to a lizard—and caused a premature delivery.

Imagine my relief when the slimy little thing dried out and scuttled away.

I’m not enamored of lizards, but they are harmless and amusing, and I don’t want to kill them if they can manage to stay outside—which, so far, most of them have.  Even if they come inside, I try to have the MotH catch and release.  (Haven’t quite gotten there myself.  Maybe someday.)

So, I’m thankful that the lizard seemed okay after our mutual shocking experience.

Next time I see one of those small white balls, I’m leaving it strictly alone.