I don't know why Leonard Nimoy's voice should be my copilot as I weed, but there he always is, advising me on my tomato crops and onion bulbs. When I'm trying to weed the corn (and spotting the difference between newly sprouted corn and grass is kind of like trying to find a tick in a bowl full of watermelon seeds,) Mr. Spock is there. "Simply pull up everything that isn't corn," he recommends. "Whatever remains, however improbable, must be corn."
When something got at the tomato plants, and Jason cursed the rabbits and woodchucks in the yard, Spock was right there, whispering in my head. "It simply isn't logical," he pointed out. "The damage is to the top of the plants, not low to the ground where the rabbits are. The logical conclusion ... is deer."
I love my Imaginary Gardening Spock. He keeps me company as I weed and mulch, hoe and dig. When I hesitated to thin out the lettuce, Mr. Spock was right there, pointing out my folly. "The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few...or the one," he said solemnly. He was right. In order to help the stronger lettuce heads survive, I had to pull out the smaller, yellowed ones.
The ridiculousness that a fictional television character helps me make my most important gardening decisions is not lost on me. I mean, you have to ask: what does a half-Vulcan know about New England gardening techniques, anyway? I honestly don't knowhow he knows, but really, he's always right on. I have to assume he must have studied Earth's agricultural patterns at some point in his travels.
Personally, I'm awfully thankful that Mr. Spock pops up in my head when I'm weeding (although I find it interesting that he usually waits until I'm about to pass out from sunstroke before he makes his imaginary presence known.) I'm honored that he takes the time to make sure I properly mulch the potatoes or water the peppers. I can only imagine that he simply wants to ensure that my garden lives long...and prospers.