By Kathy Miele
“Hey, I could use a little help here!” I called into the house as I dragged some bags into the front hall.
Steven and the boys came out to see what I needed help with.
“Did you go grocery shopping?” Max asked, sounding hopeful as he peeked into one of the bags.
“No, the gardening center,” I said as I held out a pot of tulips for one of the boys to take. Max had already lost interest and had wandered away once he realized the refrigerator wasn’t getting restocked. Alex took the tulips from me and placed them on the table before he wandered away, too.
Steven and I were standing in the front hall, a look of disappointment came over Steven’s face. “Please tell me that’s all you got at the gardening center,” he said as he looked at the few bags at my feet.
“I’d love to but who’d help me unload all the other great things I have in the car?” I smiled as I headed back out to the driveway with Steven following behind me. I popped the back hatch and as the door slowly opened I held out my arms and sang out, “Ta-da!”
Steven said nothing as he stared at the bags of potting soil and flats of flowers that filled the back of the car.
“Everything was on sale,” I said as I grabbed another bag and pulled out a pair of light blue rubber clogs. “Aren’t these adorable?” I asked, but before Steven could say anything, I pressed on. “I’m always complaining that my sneakers get so dirty when I garden, now with these I just pop them off and hit them with the hose before I come in the house!”
I began pulling more things from the bag. “Aren’t these great!” I held up a few pairs of gardening gloves. “I couldn’t decide which pattern to get but when I saw how inexpensive they were I figured, why decide? I’ll just get them all!”
Steven still wasn’t saying anything, just moving the flats of plants and empty planters around in the back of the car.
“Well?” I finally asked. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”
“I thought last year’s gardening fiasco made you realize you weren’t a gardener.”
“That was planting a vegetable garden,” I corrected. “Which technically isn’t gardening – it’s farming,” I said. “So last year I found out I’m not a farmer but I’m still working on trying to be a gardener.”
I pulled out one of the flats of flowers and placed it in Steven’s arms. “It’ll be fun working with flowers,” I said.
“But wasn’t it two years ago that you tried moving some flower bulbs in the backyard and found out you hated that too?” he asked.
“Who knew you needed a back hoe to get those bulbs out of the ground,” I complained. “Our yard is nothing but tree roots and soil as hard as cement! No one could get those bulbs out of the ground!”
“So how’s this going to be any different than your last few years of gardening?” he asked.
“It’s going to be container gardening,” I explained. “Fresh potting soil and pretty pots all done on the back deck. It’ll be easy.” I said.
“What about watering?” Steven asked. “Last year you complained that the hose fought you every time you tried to unravel it.”
I reached back into the shopping bag and pulled out another one of my purchases. “I thought of that, too!” I smiled as I showed him the package. “A hose that’s lightweight and collapsible! You won’t hear me complaining about watering again!”
“Well, it looks like you thought of everything,” he said as he carried the first flat around the house to the back deck.
“Well, not everything,” I admitted. “I got so busy at the garden center I forgot to stop at the grocery store and get anything for dinner.”
“Do you want me to order a pizza?” Steven asked.
“You decide,” I said as I slipped on a pair of gloves. “Just call me when it gets here because I’ll be gardening until then!”
