Gardening: Literal Nesting?

As much as I once hated all domestic duties, there is one time-sucking chore I absolutely loathed:

Yard work.

All things gardening fell to The Saint. For some reason, she found it relaxing to plant, weed, water, etc. My only contribution was mowing the lawn, which is a lot like vacuuming and therefore something I can manage. Gardening was the only task I took over with some resentment and angst. But why such disdain for what many view as an enjoyable hobby?

First and foremost, it's outside and, as you can see by the translucent hue of my legs, I am not an outdoorsy kind of gal. For me, the outside is simply a means to an end, the middle ground I must travel to get from inside Point A to inside Point B. Mother Nature simply can't compete with central air, indoor plumbing and cable.

On top of that, The Saint is a perfectionist when it comes to the yard. When planting flowers in their beds, a fraction of an inch apparently makes all the difference in the world. And if a flower isn't thriving after a week, then it's time to experiment with light and shade by moving it all over and conducting MIT-like tests to see where the maximum amount of each is in the yard. This attention to such minute detail is really not my forte.

Then there is my complete lack of knowledge of the fauna and flora of earth. Not too long ago, I couldn't tell you the difference between a weed and a tomato plant if you held a garden hose to my in the dead of winter. Couple this with my philosophy of Darwinism in the garden (if a flower can't survive without water but a weed can, then I guess the weed wins - so be it), and you can only imagine what the yard would look if it were left entirely up to me.

Fortunately, it's not solely up to me. I do recognize the fact that the appearance of the lawn somehow relates to The Saint's sense of well being in the world, so I am making the effort to keep up. Initially, that effort meant calling my sister and her family and begging them to help me get the yard in order earlier this spring. While I hate to admit that my niece (6) and nephew (11) were more knowledgeable and better workers, the necessary work got done and The Saint was actually happy with it.

So imagine my surprise last week when I correctly noted that the hydrangeas looked a little droopy and, despite the 105 degree heat index, I should probably water them. On my own, with no prompting from The Saint, I proceeded to water the entire yard. Sure, the lawn still looks like burnt straw and the potted flowers have seen better days, but this is still significant because I recognized the need for action and I took it. All.On.My.Own.

Now if I can just keep The Saint from looking outside for just a few more days....



- The 2nd Mommy