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So, there I was, rushing home from a trip to Kansas City at 4:00 pm. on a hot Saturday afternoon because I had to go out and mow in the boiling sun and be showered again by 5:30. "Why," you ask? Because Mrs. ProfessorRoush, always mindful of social opportunities, had asked me earlier in the week if I would go out to dinner Saturday night with a couple of old friends who were going to be in town. Ever the indulging and doting husband, I had agreed immediately, not knowing that "going out to dinner" would ultimately also include a plan for visiting my garden prior to dinner. My garden that I have abandoned to the heat of summer, sans weeding and mowing for three weeks.The lack of regular maintenance is not as big a deal as you might surmise, primarily because our ample rains of early June ceased around June 20th and we haven't seen a drop since then. All the prairie grass has stopped growing except for a small rim around the asphalt where the grass gets more runoff. And weeds have stopped sprouting, except for my Ambrosia sp. nemesis which seems to merely require dehydrated concrete to grow. So, except for finding a few giants that I've missed, the garden really wasn't too terrible, but I still couldn't let it be viewed in its current condition.
Anyway, at minimum, the fuzzy edges needed to be trimmed, and here was Mrs. ProfessorRoush, trying to talk me out of it, telling me the garden looked fine. I responded poorly to the discussion, stormed out into the heat, and proceeded to perform my impression of a Tasmanian Devil from a Bug's Bunny cartoon as I rushed about performing emergency cosmetic surgery on the garden.
Why? Oh why, I ask you? Why didn't I just point out that impromptu visitors to my garden are no different to me than impromptu house visitors are to Mrs. ProfessorRoush? She goes into a tizzy every time visitors are nigh, despite keeping a house so constantly clean that I could safely eat off the floors at any random moment. That simple analogy would have so easily been game, set, and match in favor of ProfessorRoush. Alas, it seems instead that I was close to testing out my theory of eating off the clean floors for awhile.
(The toad picture, BTW, is merely for blog decoration and is not a comment on the actions of any individual mentioned herein.)
I thought this was going to be a treatise about REAL toads. Now I'm disappointed (not to much, tho) Actually reminds me of the old Fox TV program "Allie McBeal" when the judge on the show would make the little attorney turn and "I am a toad" to the people in the courtroom. Every once in a while, I use that line ... usually muttering it under my breath at someone who has annoyed me.
ReplyDeleteSorry to disappoint. The toad is only me.
DeleteI agree entirely about the stress caused by impromptu visitors to my garden. Usually I bob along in a state of blissful abandonment but whenever visitors are expected I get completely hysterical and race around the garden tidying up like a lunatic. In fact, I had the ultimate test this Spring when my colleagues from Sissinghurst came to a party and naturally wanted to view the garden too. You can only guess at my state of mind in the preceeding week! Helen (gardener)
ReplyDeleteThanks. If a Sissinghurst gardener gets frantic about the visitors in her garden, then I feel a little vindicated. On the other hand, your colleagues are a much harder audience than my visitors were...sort of like showing your home interior to Martha Stewart for you, I imagine.
DeleteI too have to do emergency grading when visitors are due, to the detriment of completing chores in the house I'm afraid. So, nit so much 'house proud' as 'Garden proud', I think ! Hope you enjoyed your meal!
ReplyDelete