"We" means "me" in relationships and gardening
May 30, 2007
Last weekend I planted our garden. Liz and I rent a terrace home, and being on the first level we get a little slice of backyard. We can’t dig in it, but we can cover it in pots.
I spent a significant amount of time planning the garden this year. I learned all about companion planting, which is like a buddy system for plants. For example, I alternated the basil plants with the tomato plants, because the basil will repel some of the insects that the tomato plant would attract, and help keep the ground covered so the soil will stay moist longer, which the tomato plants enjoy. Plus the basil is just fun to hang around, with all those stories of the old country.
I was looking forward to the planting. It’s all kind of zen. It’s also the exact opposite of what I usually do all day which is seemingly to sit in front of different types of monitors. There are no monitors outside. Pictures of outside is what they use to see if the monitors are working properly, but nobody ever goes outside, so how would they really know?
So I spent a considerable amount of Saturday afternoon planting all of these plants. And when I finished I looked around and realized I had enough plants left over for a second garden. I didn’t recall having all these extra plants last year, and last year is what I based this year’s plan on. My foot rebelled and kicked over the fertilizer pellets into the lawn, which it was just looking for a reason to do anyway and this seemed as good a time as any. So I spent another considerable amount of time squeezing these extra plants between the existing plants, until I had quite enough of either thanks very much. My foot showed it’s agreement by kicking the pellets onto the lawn again.
Finally I was finished. I was dirty, and tired. My whole afternoon shot. The lawn was incredibly well fertilized.
At which point dirt-free-drink-and-a-magazine-hasn’t-planted-squat from the deck says to me “We should plant some snap dragons.”
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