[This post was composed on the morning of June 25, 2011, in honor of a certain young lady who helped her Daddy in the garden.]
Chivalry these days appears to be in hiding, and some think it is dead altogether; but I am happy to report that chivalry has made his appearance known today in grand fashion, with all the majestic splendor one would expect from regal character. As anyone who follows the affairs of the Royal Family could attest, the arrival today of Lord Tiller had long been expected. All of the faithful who are familiar with the garden kingdom have looked for—nay, longed for—the day that Sir Tiller would enter the garden kingdom with his entourage of power trailing in smooth succession behind his every move. Today, Lord Tiller arrived.
Good Sir Tiller has been called many things, but weak was never one. His power is nearly unparalleled in the garden kingdom. Indeed, if there were a fault with Sir Tiller, it would be the very power which gives him his strength. While Sir Tiller no doubt accomplishes his tasks—all of them—with the force and vigor of a king leading the charge in battle, he sometimes engages those tasks with the prowess of a bear. Just as you wouldn’t want your own garden trampled by a wild grizzly bear, you also would not want your productive little plot of vital vegetables mangled by the unbridled power of Lord Tiller. He tramples underfoot the habanero as easily as he does the dandelion. He is so high above each that he distinguishes neither from the other.
Lord Tiller understands his exalted status. Thus, Lord Tiller wisely puts in place his precautionary pawns to prepare the way for his every arrival. And today was no exception to his exceptional ability to deploy noble personnel who make ready the pathway for his regal procession. On this particular occasion, Sir Tiller employed the remarkable assistance of Lady Rebekah—the finest path preparer since John the Baptist himself. In selecting the Lady Rebekah, Sir Tiller’s wisdom was once again on dazzling display. Lady Rebekah wielded her 2 green protector rods through the garden plot as a careful shepherd would guide and guard his most vulnerable little lamb. The Lady’s rod gently held back this tomato, while her other rod was pushing forward the cucumber. It was a splendid show of balance and dexterity as the good Lady selflessly floated backwards to the rhythm set by Lord Tiller, never missing a beat. Lady Rebekah’s deftness was bedazzling to the eye of every onlooker. She moved in perfect time, following the commanding lead of Lord Tiller. Together, they practically waltzed through the garden with the grace and beauty of the finest ballroom dancers. Oh, splendid indeed was this array of talent coursing through the cowpeas.
After these two had finished pirouetting through the peppers, there was no doubt that royalty was on display. The unmatched beauty and regaled splendor of this happy pair will long be remembered in local garden lore. This celebrated fable is, of course, untrue, but it is undoubtedly a real account of the improvements made to the central garden on this stunning summer day.
And because this tale is labeled a fable, it must indeed have a point. The point is simply this, the Royal Family has entrusted us with a fertile plot which we must yet tend. We cannot always rely on the selfless appearance of Lord Tiller or his faithful Lady Rebekah. We must take our yeoman’s hoe into the garden kingdom ourselves and with our own less-than-regal fingers pluck out the enemy’s tares so that our Lord’s wheat abounds. We may not be so royally blessed in the coming weeks, as Lord Tiller has now taken his leave from us this day. Let us be thankful we had his magnificent presence for a day and continue our work tomorrow, with or without good Lady Rebekah.