Last October during our annual trip to my favorite pumpkin patch Todd and I purchased a climbing rose for our backyard. I fell in love with the colors of Joseph's Coat. The rose was pretty much bare root, hardly any leaves and absolutely no blossoms. After six months of tender loving care it has blossomed (literally and figuratively). As I peek at it every morning I can't help but give myself a mental pat on the back for a job well-done. I have a knack for killing plants due to a lack of watering them. Even Maddie told Nana Gail that "Mommy kills all of her plants." God bless her sense of honesty, no matter how humbling it may be! But I am bound and determined to foster a beautiful garden.
Todd and I ripped out all of the shrubbery, therefore we have no choice but to create a successful garden. We tend to have different visions of what constitutes a "garden". This is where that whole "men are from Mars, women are from Venus" comes into play. Todd wants to throw out some bark or ground cover, a few pots and call it a day. I, on the other hand, envision a lovely English garden, overflowing with vibrant, robust blossoms. Fortunately he is content to roll his eyes at me and go with "the wife's plan."And for the record, man I feel OLD, blogging about my rose bushes! WTF?! If you had told me ten years ago that I would be excited about not killing a plant and bragging about it on the Internet I would have fainted from laughing so hard. My mother, the consummate gardener is so proud. Saturday, April 18, 2009
Success
I am learning to garden. Unbeknownest to me, like cooking, it is an acquired art. I am not a patient person, therefore I struggle with anything that is an "acquired art". Why can't I be like that chick in the Matrix? Someone telepathically sends me all of the information I need to be a pro and shzzam: instant-expert! I guess I have to settle for doing things the old fashioned way through trial and error. As I begin to grasp the conept of gardening I discovered that the one thing I love is watching the fruits of my labor grow and blossom. That is unless one of the dogs decides to dig them up or claim them as theirs by peeing all over them. Those mongrels are lucky we love them so damn much!
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