Earlier this afternoon I was rocking the baby in a chair on the porch. I happened to glance over at one of our potted plants and noticed how desiccated it had become. Yup, that’s about right, I thought.
Sorry, plant, I used to take great care of the likes of you, but–if I’m being honest–I couldn’t give two shits that you haven’t been watered but two times in the past month when it just so happened to rain.
The same could be said for my feelings about our lawn. It hasn’t been mowed in about three weeks, and parts of it are looking like the African savanna, capable of concealing a mid-sized aardvark, at least. I’m surprised the landlord hasn’t shown up yet with a notice of eviction.
And the poor, poor flower garden. I had such high hopes for it. Funny how lack of water causes the flowers to dry out and shrivel up, but somehow the weeds still grow sky high. It’s just not right.
Finally, let’s not forget the cherry tomato plants. You know, the ones we didn’t plant, but continue to grow nonetheless. Perhaps their growth sprang forth from carefully cultured compost of years past.
Initially, it appeared as though there were three separate plants growing in the small bed off the back of the house. Back in June, Liam tended to them once when he properly staked them all. Now, however, they have morphed into one giant mass of green vines and tiny yellow and red spheres, that seems to grow just as wide as it does high, threatening to overtake a small child should she happen to carelessly wander by.
I rather enjoyed sending the girls outside to pick some tomatoes a time or two earlier this summer–when the plants were far more tame–just to keep them busy for twenty minutes. It’s not like I was going to cook anything with the little suckers. Gone are the days (at least for now–for me) of home-cooked meals. When I’m in charge of “cooking,” that usually looks like dinners of eggs, or cheese quesadillas, paired with yogurt and raw fruits and veg. Sometimes roasted broccoli makes a rare appearance.
Gratefully, Liam still finds the energy and motivation to really cook for us a couple of nights a week, when he’s not getting home from work at 8:00, tomatoes included.
Anyway, I guess I’m thankful we never really had time to have guests over to enjoy a meal outside this summer at our new picnic table–which Liam’s brother crafted for us in about two hours this past Memorial Day. I would have been too embarrassed to have to ask guests to nevermind the knee-high weeds growing up through the cracks in the patio stone while they were eating their dinner, brushing itchily against their bare legs. I suppose we could have included garden shears at each place setting. You know, have our friends and family help us out with some chores whilst breaking bread together.
Most days I feel like we are barely keeping our heads above water. I have to keep reminding myself that these are the best days of our lives. Weeds and all.