GARDENS

So this weekend, I finally got my garden in shape. I've been gone on weekends, or taking care of things in general, and the front and back gardens (also known as "yards" to Americans like me) were out of hand. Things were definitely starting to revert back to nature.

After pulling 3 large garbage bags full of weeds, I started looking around for something to do with the front garden. Ages ago, I started a whole bunch of seeds indoors, tended them oh-so-carefully, then eventually moved them outdoors. Some things got repotted, and then I went through a period of rushing off places on weekends, and the remaining seed trays became not so much an indication of my love of all things living as a tribute to Darwin.

The problem was that in the intervening weeks, the rain and sun had eliminated all traces of ink on my carefully-placed labels. (note: you should have seen the care with which I tended these plants for MONTHS indoors. It was really quite touching.)

Mind you, I did have one tray full of little blue flowers, which I can definitely say were violas. But the rest remained a mystery to me.

This might not seem like a big deal to you, and if this is the case, then you are clearly ignoring the two most pertinent facts:

1. The plants in question may, in fact, be vegetables.

2. I have a boyfriend who, I swear, WAITS to find reasons and/or opportunities to mock me. (some of these are quite spurious.)

So you see the dilemma? What if I plant things in the front border, and then in two weeks they turn out to be eggplant?

I planted them anyway, and am now hoping for the best.

Later in the afternoon, after trimming the hedges and mowing the grass in the back, I collapsed, exhaustedly, in a wicker chair and prayed for death. As I closed my eyes, I briefly wondered why my eyelids stung. I had somehow failed to make the "out in the garden all day"/"I'm not wearing sunscreen" connection, which was made for me in quite a vivid fashion later that night.

My boyfriend had called me at five, and said that he would come over at around seven. I sat in the chair, wondering how much time had passed since then. I was thirsty, and I was trying to weigh my actions carefully--if I were to stand up and get my own beverage, then that would require actual movement; however, if I were to wait for Michael to arrive and bring me a beverage, then that could take a while. If only I knew what time it was, I could calculate the relative weights of time passage vs. muscle soreness.

Thoughts of heatstroke had finally penetrated enough for me to give up and rise to my feet, when I heard the welcome sound of Boys in the Distance, so I quickly collapsed into my seat again and made weak noises until lovely boys appeared and bestowed refreshment. (The logic of this actually escapes me, since rising to one's feet is by far the most difficult part of the beverage-retrieval process, but it had become some kind of principle at that point.) He had anticipated my need, and purchased ice cream on the way.

I really do have the best boyfriend in the world.


ADDENDUM

I failed to mention what ACTUALLY happened when Michael arrived. He came up to me and said, "There was a mugging!"

I leapt to my feet (well, not really, but I made REALLY concerned noises, which is almost the same thing) and said, "What? Where? What happened?"

He said, "I was bringing over these lovely ice cream bars, and immediately when I left the store, I was mugged, and the scoundrels made off with half of this box here, which is why it is missing! Thankfully, I managed to keep this other box from them."