Ah, the joys of urban gardening!

Remember back a few weeks ago when I mentioned Merde Man–I’m assuming it’s a man, because women just don’t do things like this, do they?–who’s been systematically pooping right in front of garden gates all over the Boylston section of the Fenway Victory Gardens, for years, as far as I know? His regular rotation has brought him to my beloved Row E twice in as many weeks.

Yesterday, when I dropped in to do some weeding, there was that foul smell again. Nothing smells quite like human shit, does it? And the weather was brutal yesterday afternoon–hot and humid–which made it worse. It seemed to be somewhat localized but I could not pinpoint it, so I set off in search of the pile I knew had been lovingly left for me or one of my lucky neighbors.

Turned out to be a turd the size of a beer can plopped neatly down–perfectly centered, lest anyone thought it was not well-planned and meticulously executed–right in front of my lovely neighbor Rob’s garden gate.

I removed the offending matter as expeditiously as possible to the compost heap at the far end of the row. But something of the stink lingered.

Not least the psychic stink of the act itself. It’s hard to get my mind around the thrill Merde Man must experience in anticipation of the unseen reaction of his unknown victims. (Unless, of course, he is actually one of us, a possibility, and wanders among us gleefully awaiting mention of his nefarious nocturnal emissions the next day: I once had my locker at the gym broken into, and I am absolutely sure the perp was standing a couple lockers away when I brought the attendant in to see. I’m sure it was the perp, in fact, who came up to me after the attendant had left, introduced himself, and asked if I knew how to use a calling card, if you needed a PIN–but, you know, what can you do?)

There are sociopaths among us, that’s for sure. It’s all a part of the rich tapestry of urban life.

Categories: gardening philosophy, Urban Gardening Strategies