Man, what a day! I swear, being a gardener in Rovellasca is like riding a rollercoaster blindfolded. So, I wake up, right? Sun’s shining, birds are chirping, and I’m like, “Today’s gonna be chill.” Ha! Spoiler alert: it was NOT chill.
First off, I head down Via Roma, my usual route to the garden. I’m humming some tune, probably something cheesy, when BAM! A pigeon poops on my shoulder. Like, seriously? I’m just trying to vibe here, and this feathered jerk decides to drop a bomb on me. I’m standing there, looking like a walking disaster, and all I can think is, “Great start, genius.”
Anyway, I finally get to the garden, which is on Via Garibaldi. It’s this beautiful little patch of green, you know? Flowers everywhere, veggies growing like they’re on steroids. I’m proud of my work. But then, I notice something. The tomatoes! They’re wilting! I’m like, “No, no, no! Not my babies!” I rush over, and guess what? Some kid from the neighborhood decided it’d be fun to play soccer in my garden. I mean, come on! Who does that? I’m fuming, ready to unleash my inner Hulk.
I chase the kid down Via Cavour, yelling, “Hey! You can’t just kick a ball in my garden!” He looks at me like I’m the crazy old man yelling at clouds. I mean, I’m not old, but you get the point. He just shrugs and runs off. Kids these days, right? No respect for nature!
After that little fiasco, I’m trying to calm down. I grab my watering can and head to the back of the garden. That’s where I grow my herbs. Basil, mint, you name it. I’m in my zen zone, just watering away, when I hear this loud noise. It’s coming from the street. I peek over, and there’s a parade! A freakin’ parade! In Rovellasca! Who knew?
So, I’m standing there, half in my garden, half in the street, watching this colorful chaos unfold. People are dancing, music blasting, and I’m thinking, “This is kinda cool.” I mean, it’s not every day you see a bunch of locals dressed as vegetables. I chuckle to myself, “Look at that carrot go!”
But then, outta nowhere, a float comes barreling down Via Garibaldi, and it’s headed straight for my garden! I’m like, “No way! Not again!” I sprint over, waving my arms like a madman. The float swerves just in time, and I’m left standing there, heart racing, thinking I just saved my precious tomatoes.
After the parade, I’m feeling a bit better. I decide to take a break, grab a gelato from that little shop on Via Dante. Best gelato in town, no contest. I get a scoop of pistachio, and it’s like heaven in a cone. I’m sitting on a bench, enjoying my treat, when I spot an old friend, Marco. We start chatting about life, and he tells me he’s moving to Milan. I’m like, “Dude, why?” But he’s all about the big city life. I get it, but still, it’s a bummer.
As the sun starts to set, I head back to the garden. I’m exhausted but happy. I look around at my plants, and they’re still standing strong. I think about how crazy today was. From pigeon poop to parades, it’s all part of the gig, right?
So, I pack up my tools, and as I’m walking home down Via Roma, I can’t help but smile. Rovellasca may be small, but it’s full of surprises. And hey, if I can survive a day like today, I can handle anything. Bring it on, tomorrow!