I have what used to be known as “capable” hands. They're no-nonsense peasant's hands that, over the years, have accumulated a fine crop of age spots, freckles and Lord knows what else. The thin, loose skin on the backs of my hands reminds me of a Shar-Pei puppy.
The truth is, attached to my middle-aged frame is a pair of paws that would make Methuselah proud. Weather-beaten, work-worn hands the size of shovels. What a shame that lace gloves for day and sleeves with long, ruffled cuffs are no longer the height of fashion.
show hands How could this have happened? I suspect that gardening is the culprit responsible for this a-paw-ling mess. More specifically, years spent gardening without thinking of putting suntan lotion on the backs of my hands or wearing gardening gloves. Years of using my bare hands as a sort of fleshy digging tool. (I wear gloves now, but it's a case of shutting the barn door long after the horse has bolted.)
Am I the only one with hands this disgraceful? To find out, I conducted an unscientific mini-survey, which simply consisted of surreptitiously scrutinizing the hands of friends and neighbours who garden. And in the process, I came to the conclusion that there is a definite correlation between your approach to gardening and the state of your hands. In fact, I will take it one step further and offer the theory that there are two main cultivars of the genus Gardener: Gardener spp. ‘Sensible', and Gardener spp. ‘Kamikaze'.
Gardeners who belong in the ‘Sensible' category make lists and have a long-term gardening plan. Their blooms open perfectly in sequence. Sensible gardeners do not need to wait for the sight of emerging spring shoots (and sometimes summer flowers) to remind them of what they've planted. More often than not, they have hands as graceful and blemish-free as lilies. They probably wore gardening gloves in the cradle.
‘Kamikazes' are creatures of impulse-a harum-scarum lot. We head for the garden centre and load up the cart with plants or seeds we had no intention of buying in the first place (or actually, ever). Then we rush home and take our treasures straight into the garden and start digging feverishly, heedless of hands (and sometimes of shoes and clothing, too). It's simply a different way of doing things.
So if you're a penitent Kamikaze like me, is there anything that can be done to minimize the damage to your hands that time and carelessness have wrought? I've rubbed lemon juice into my skin and left it on overnight (it itched). I've slathered my hands in petroleum jelly and put white cotton socks over them (which might explain why I'm now single). I've dipped my hands into warm paraffin wax, and that would have worked well had I been able to leave the wax on. . . forever.
My latest nostrum of choice is bag balm. Yep, the evil-smelling stuff farmers put on cows' udders. This kind is sold in health food stores and fortified with camomile, so it's marginally less objectionable (even though the dog shies away in alarm when I put it on).
Still, I live in hope. If you have any surefire tips or remedies that you would like to share, please send them along. Good ideas may merit mention in a future issue of Canadian Gardening (after being tested by yours truly). Until then, please pass the bag balm. And maybe the socks.
AN OUNCE OF PREVENTION
Be sure to cover the backs of your hands with sunscreen with a minimum SPF of 15, but preferably 30, every time you go out into the garden to work. (Apparently, the sun's rays are now so powerful that sunscreen should be applied to the backs of hands even while driving the car in summer.) Find some gardening gloves you like-there are myriad varieties out there-and wear the darn things. Do this faithfully, and in 20 years you'll thank me. I promise.
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