O Lord, I thank You for volunteer flowers that beautify our yard. Yet, having seeded this flourishing patch BEHIND, not in front of our forsythia bushes, OMG, are You hiding a grin?

O Lord, You invested so much sunshine and rain in this first tomato from my garden. You must have thought it was worth it.
Investing aches, pains and Tylenol in pulling these weeds, I wasn’t sure. …
Until I tasted this fruit? vegetable? of our labors.
Image by congerdesign from Pixabay.
OMG, You were right! As usual.
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.
Addicts.
With symptoms listed below, I hope to alert family and friends of this malady.
Signs of Gardening Addiction
Early Level
Second Level
Third Level
Final Level
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?
O Lord, I’m thankful that You bless Your people with food. Though, um, we didn’t expect yellow tomatoes. Lots of them. I imagine the children of Israel didn’t expect manna, either. Tons of it. OMG, I suppose if those desert wanderers learned to eat Manna Surprise, I guess I can learn to eat yellow spaghetti sauce.
O Lord, You know I didn’t plant these cosmos invading my arbor; having lived there last year, they simply assumed a welcome.
Ditto for these zinnias that interrupt my marigold border.
I’ve never planted petunias this color, yet they mooch off my orange impatiens.
OMG, are You teaching me Your interruptions and invasions of my plans can be lovely?
O Lord, Your infinite mind has designed an infinite number of beautiful things, but surely, peonies must near the top of your lovely list. OMG, thank You that while our politicians don’t always get it right, they were smart enough to name it Indiana’s state flower!