Spring, it’s wonderful, a renewal, the turning of a new leaf…
But if you are a gardener’s husband beware, this is no fun romp through bright and airy garden centers stopping to smell the roses, not that you would do that anyways, this is deep thinking, planning, and back breaking work.
You will be told, “we need some more bark mulch, edging, and some steer manure” thinking you will politely follow along to the garden center with her to do the heavy lifting, that this will hopefully be a short and simple trip.
She discusses annuals versus perennials, ground covers over grass seed like you have a opinion on it, and might wish to share. What exactly is a perennial you think, but don’t worry it’s not your job to know the difference, you’re only the muscle.
She will get this gleam in her eye, that used to mean she spotted you in a crowded room, but now it’s because of plant lust. “Let’s put in a hedge over there so the neighbour’s dog won’t see Bootsie, and bark at him. And then we can build a trellis on this side of the patio so we have more privacy. Shall we move that ornamental grass and replace it with this unintelligible Latin small flowering shrub with those white flowers, that would be so pretty in the spring… the bench needs a paint job, and the spade is starting to wear out. Have you seen the pitchfork, you might need to get a pick because our soil is rocky, it’s your job to dig the holes isn’t it?”
This is all said in one big breath, and your head will start to swirl, and no it’s not the fumes from the pesticide aisle.
“What about some big rocks for the dry stream bed, or maybe a bird bath.” That’s pretty much when you wander off to look at the lawnmowers… hoping that the resulting haul will be able to fit in your vehicle.
Then there is plant lust… all that dormancy makes her quiver with delight the first time she sees anything blooming in a garden center. Of course you will need Violas, Pansies, and English Daisies because it’s a cool spring she tells you, not that you care other then when is it time to cut the lawn. She adds a few forced bulbs for a bit of color, yes she knows that she planted masses of them, but they are not up yet.
You want to ask why she can’t wait for them to come up, but she has headed towards some bare sticks, roots wrapped in burlap that apparently are trees, and is cooing so happily at the brightly colored tags the glazed look in your eyes goes unnoticed. You remain perplexed, not having the vision that she does, and wonder why on earth you agreed to come, and by the way, where is the guy tool section.
You’re more interested in the mechanics of in ground sprinklers than the color of the hoses, and you wonder why they don’t give out tranquilizers to husbands at the door.
Can’t a guy get a free coffee when his wife spends all this money in one place?
Ah yes, spring… it’s a re-leaf. ,