Gardening addicts. Never leave them alone at a garden center or nursery, where obliging, devious personnel help them take out a second mortgage to buy the last bougainvillea. This, though the tropical lovelies prefer Argentina over Indiana.
Younger junkies fall victim to buying binges after watching HGTV. However, gardening addiction does its worst damage in women of a certain age.
They should know better than to trust this mad urge to nurture. Most spent decades caring for little humans. They’ve repressed memories of endless feedings — and the waterings with which baby sprouts responded. These women dealt daily with mountains of fertilizer. Eventually wising up, they limited the number of nurturees they’d cultivate.
However, spring gardening regenerates the madness. While spouses are playing golf, the women load up with 35 flats of annuals, 37 bags of potting soil and barrels of pansies, adding just one more hanging basket here. Another there. How can they ignore wilted tomato seedlings? With their TLC, the weaklings will flourish.
With symptoms listed below, I hope to alert family and friends of this malady.
Signs of Gardening Addiction
- Switching from a regular cart to one the size of a brontosaurus.
- Bragging to strangers about how many green beans she grew last year.
- Fibbing about extra trips to garden centers.
- Claiming kids/grandkids are responsible for dirt in the car.
- Bragging to strangers about how many zucchinis they forced on friends last year.
- Buying seeds by the pound on the Internet.
- Claiming proud ownership of 234 flowerpots stacked in the garage.
- Delighting in the $1,000 tiller her husband gave her for their anniversary.
- Hijacking a brontosaurus cart at gunpoint.
- Shoplifting bags of manure.
- Buying seeds by the barrel.
- Claiming proud ownership of 9,781 flowerpots stacked in the garage.
- Organizing neighborhood kids for a dandelion-blowing party at a rival’s gardens.
- Buying an authentic Sweet Juliet Rose. The original plant sold for $15.8 million.
I am proud to inform readers, as well as my spouse, that today, I didn’t brag to a single stranger about green beans or zucchini. I bypassed needy tomato seedlings. I kept my regular cart and made a single purchase.
“Only one?” Hubby blinks in disbelief.
“Only one,” I assure him.
Your Extraordinary Ordinary: Are you a gardening addict?