Time

Time

I hate gardening. Ok I don’t hate it; I just don’t like much of it. Our house has a fairly large yard. My husband grew up here. I moved in when we bought it from his mother after we got married. She’d retired, and decided to move in with her sister. The house being more than she wanted to take care of. I love the house. However, she loved flower gardens and had them everywhere. I think she held the record of the most flower gardens in one yard in the entire neighborhood.

I can’t even remember the names of the flowers I like, let alone how to take care of them. I’m good at raking, digging, sweeping- basically cleaning up. Not planting, or even weeding… I was never sure which was a weed and which was the wanted plant unless it was actually in bloom. Plus, I wasn’t into flower bunches in the house. Watching them dry up and fall apart, having to clean it all up… I’m very fond of fake flowers. No watering, look good all the time with just occasional dusting… that’s my kind of indoor plants!

This didn’t go well with my husband, who I might add, did like to garden, vegetables only… but he enjoyed it! He seemed to think I would just take over the flower gardens. Women’s work, he seemed to think. Surprise!

It took several years, but he finally gave in. He’s the gardener now. I have a lovely wheel cart with giant wheels, all the rakes, lawn mower, everything I need. I take care of the yard. He takes care of the gardens: vegetables, and flowers. Twenty-eight years now, and our yard is always beautiful. Things eventually work out in a good marriage, well, if you give it enough time.