Gardening is not my forte. Wow. That's really putting it nicely.
My MIL gave us some roses to plant when we bought our house. I don't really like roses, but it was easier to put them in than it would have been to deal with the fall out of not using them. So, I planted them along the side of the house.
And she wouldn't speak to us for 2 weeks because we had not dug up the wisteria and put them out front as she had envisioned.
One of them looks normal. Maybe 2 feet high, blooms regularly but not overly abundant. Just normal.
The other is about 8 or 9 feet tall and blooms all summer.
I don't think that's what it was supposed to do. It looks more tree than flower. Our tiny red maple that started as one simple shoot has multiplied like a bunny. It now has 7 different trucks. And then there are the Others. The unidentifiable plants that have taken up residence under the tree in an effort to keep me from trying to cut it down. The rhododendron is now this unruly monstrosity threatening my porch. I think I killed the lavender last year.
I tend to do that. Kill plants. They see me coming with a watering can and those gardening shears and they decide it will be quicker and less painful to simply die right then.
Before spring really starts I thought I'd go out and try to get some kind of handle on my little garden.
I left the rhododendron because I have no idea where to begin and I really love it's brilliantly purple blooms. I don't want to kill it. I've actually contemplated asking my MIL for help (which should tell you how desperate I am) because her yard looks like where flowers go to retire. And die. Because she thinks even dead flowers are pretty. But at least she would know what to do with my poor overgrown rhodie.
I started clipping away at the Others. Some of them had little splintery thorns. I didn't see them. I felt them. Feeling them is always ever so much more fun.
I had to stop to pull out all those little splintery things and ow. My hands look like those little tomato pin cushions.
Still I went back for more. This time, I brought gloves. Let's not go over why I didn't just wear them in the first place.
I got most of the Others cleared away but I have no idea what to do with the little stubs sticking up. I'm sure I probably need to dig them up but it just sounds like more work and quite frankly I was already bored with this gardening thing anyway. Still, I decided to take down the Andre the Giant of Rose Bushes.
I was happily clipping away when it happened.
You know what happened right?
Have you ever had a thorn stuck in your finger?
I have.
My thumb is purple and red and sore.
It was then that I lost it.
I started kicking the rose bush and yelling something about sticking the thorns straight up it's root because I'm pretty sure that's the same as a human ass.
The rose bush is still, mostly, there.
And I am no longer allowed to bemoan the fact that our neighbors back away slowly, shielding their children from me as they go.
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