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It’s that time of year again.
The time when I head out to Lowe’s and Lester Farms and buy all sorts of flowers for our porches and pots. And for good measure this year, I’m reopening my pitiful weed infested vegetable garden and bought tomato and cucumber plants that will soon flourish right before my eyes.
It’s going to be a good summer!
Everything looks so pretty on that first Saturday evening when everything is watered and potted. I love to sit back on my porch and just take it all in. My husband, however, is a realist and knows how this story ends.
“You never water any of them. I don’t know why you buy them every year to then just watch them die.”
“This year will be different,” I tell him. “This year, they will get watered!”
But the fact is I hate to water. Never remember to water. And I am just not one of those people who gets up early before work or comes in after work to water. So, the story often does end with death and destruction.
But not this year. This year our son is home from college and is in need of money. So, unbeknownst to my husband, he and I have worked out a deal.
He is going to water all my plants. He is also going to help me tend to my garden. All for a small fee, of course.
It is going to be great!
The first weekend of his being home from college and mowing his grandfather’s lawn and weed eating — the boy catches poison ivy. A steroid shot later, and he is wavering on our deal.
“You promised to help me with this garden!”
“I’m covered in poison ivy. There is no way I’m helping in that overgrown garden. You’ve never once produced one vegetable. Ever!”
But he needs the money, and I’m ever the optimist. So out he comes, gloves, long sleeve shirt and pants and I watch him toil away.
“Don’t forget to water!” I holler.
Yes, it’s going to be a great summer!
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