Reality

 

Just what is reality? Is it our version, the world's version or just a version unto it's self?

We are bombarded daily with shows on tv called "reality shows". I often roll my eyes at the seemingly lack of realness about them. I watch hardly any of them. I avoid the vast majority of them like the plague.

I have never watched a bachelor looking for a bride, I have never seen the efforts of the hopeful trying to dance or sing their way to the top. I'm not interested in bored rich housewives across the country, nor do I wish to watch grown men play with and try to catch gators.

Some of those reality shows I almost find a bit offensive. Amish bad guys, or I am assuming they are bad guys seeing as they call themselves a type of mafia. Preacher's daughters that has me wondering what kind of preacher wants to go on tv to play the role of the strict out dated father while their young, bad little girls try to find as much mischief as they can. It isn't the kind of preacher I would want to preach to me about choices and how to live my life.

I have multiple friends and family members that are addicted to reality shows though. They can't miss a single episode of men out in the dark searching for a mythical bigfoot that never can be found or a decent photograph of them taken. It's the adult form of the boogie man, and if they would have paid attention to their childhood, they would know the boogie man can be found under the bed or in the closet. But still they watch for an hour or more, as the characters stumble around in the dark only to hear rustling or howling or whatever it is bigfeet do in the dark.

I will admit to watching two reality shows. One on the Sci-fi channel about a competition of make-up artists that try to create and paint creatures, and another one on being top chefs as they battle each week with their own skills at making dishes to tempt the palette. I like the idea of being able to see someone's talent and how they use it and how their mind thinks in their efforts. Similiar to some other reality shows some might say, but for some reason those other shows don't interest me.

That's the thing about reality. We view our reality and the reality of others differently. What may appear real to us may not be so real to others. That chasing huge hairy beasts thru trailer parks, and gator infested swamps with gypsies and the Amish hot on their tails is someone's vision or version of reality...and that is okay. We all are different in our views and beliefs and our realities are in  part of our own making.

Over on facebook, a gardening group I am in, are having a growing contest. A variety of plants and ideas were suggested and zinnias ended up being the top vote getter. So many have already mentioned the variety of zinnias they have bought or ordered and some members overseas have already got zinnias in the ground, growing and starting to bloom.

I spent some time looking thru all of my catalogs, just looking for that perfect zinnia. Something new and different from what everyone else was growing. I ordered my one packet of seeds with high hopes and dreams of big swaths of giant pink cactus type blooms of my variety of zinnias that I would plant.

Imagine my distress to learn that my gardening nemesis "Vero" had ordered the exact same zinnias from the same catalog. Grrrr! But the reality is I should have expected it. Vero and I get a lot of the same catalogs, have a similiar taste in plants and are always looking for something new to try.

The reality is that most likely Vero will have those beautiful drifts of pink zinnias that I dream about having, and that I will in fact, most likely won't. Last year we had a terrible drought that we are still in. Despite the large snowfall amounts this winter it has made hardly a dent in our dry conditions. It takes a heck of a lot of snow to amount to an inch of rain.

My reality this summer most likely will be more drought. My high hopes of tall masses of the bright pink flowers will most likely be stunted, crispy plants with hints of mildew from over watering to try and  make my zinnia flowers grow.

It keeps me going though. Those dreams of big bold colorful blooms. It's what keeps me growing every year, this hope of having "pow, in your face" flowers and gardens that rival any English garden or Chelsea flower show entry. It's a sad attempt at a reality that won't most likely ever match up with the visions of my mind.

But I still try, much like the elusive bigfoot, I know it has to be possible. I just don't want to come face to face with the reality of either.