This post is brought to you by a giant glass of wine.

I found a body in the garden today.

No. I'm serious. I found a dead body in a plastic grocery bag in the front garden today, tossed over the fence.

What sort of body? The world will never know, unless of course one of you, braver souls than I or two other members of the garden and two of New York's finest, want to untie the tripled bagged garbage bag and open that sucker up.

I joked, and still do, that this community garden is straight out of the movie The Funny Farm. Last week, lightening struck a tree in the back, today I found a body or chunk of body, a hooker's arm, or maybe Fluffy. I really have no idea. I'm terrified what will happen tomorrow.

Basically, all week I've smelled a sort of sweet stench of decay, what I imagine (and now know) that death smells like. I first blamed it on the girl next to my plot. I knew she was (finally) convinced that she needed to fertilize her plants and figured (feared) she had gone the blood and bone meal route. Terrible idea mostly because both of those just draw in our furry rodent friends and they both (surprise!) smell like death, cause well that's how dehydrating blood and pulverizing bone works. I was absolutely convinced everytime the wind blew a cloud of death towards me that it was her. Absolutely convinced, but there was just something missing, a piece of the puzzle, missing, nothing near her plot smelled like death, I even smelled the dirt, nothing, yet still DEATH.

Well today I had to get into the garden and get some WORK done. Having sent my friend packing on her cross country road trip and the garden in desperate need of some LOVE, especially after yesterday's frenzied 'THE GREEN BEANS ARE DONE AND OVERWHELMING ME AND SO THEY MUST GO' fest, I got down to business. Almost immediately DEATH smelled everywhere and still convinced that my neighbor, in her imagined free love and crunchy granola ways, brought the smell of death into the garden, I just tried to get on with my day and breathe out of my mouth.

I'm not sure what caused me to look up, or how a bag buried in the branches of a shrub in the front garden caught my eye, but instantly I knew. I had found the source. Well, long story short after getting two other members who lived nearby to come help and then collectively having a moment of WHAT IF IT'S A BODY we called the precinct who told us it was definitely a 911 call. I think the 911 operator thought I was insane, "Yes, no it's in a grocery bag, but it's double bagged and smells like death, there are flies everywhere, so I assume it's something that's not alive anymore. No, I have no intention of opening it, cat or not a cat, but it could also not be a cat and in that case I'd feel guilty chucking someone's bits out without calling someone whose job it is to open bags of mysterious smelly things." She told us help would be on its way and to call back if things change. Sure Lady, if the bag starts coming to life we'll call you back and let you know the zombie apocalypse started. Right.

The police eventually pulled up and we were told to bag it and let sanitation take care of it. I decided not to suggest 'IT MIGHT BE A BODY' because it's never a good idea to suggest to the police that the bag that smells like death, could have a body in it, because it might and then you're suspect number 1 and well I still had a cucumber trellis to stake. Some surprises are better left un-had.

In other news, my tomatoes have fungus and my legs are covered in mosquito bites. Like I said, this post is brought to you by a giant glass of wine (and Nicole, thanks for the wine!)