The other day, I was complaining to My Pirate about how I’m allergic to the oakleaf hydrangea blooms right outside our bedroom window. And he turned to me and said, “Can I tear them out and make that my garden bed?”
Alice Oakleaf Hydrangea
I about fell over. This is the man that had to snap on a pair of latex gloves to help me change my car’s fuel filter when we first met. He feared dirt on his hands, the way that I fear a visit from his mother. In the eighteen years that I’ve known him, he’s never shown an interest in gardening, except for cooking out of our vegetable garden.
But, there have been some subtle signs this season. He washed the tomato cages in the bathtub with a bleach water solution. And two weeks ago, I came home from volunteering, to find that he had transplanted a chunk of Japanese Coltsfoot (plant thug alert!) into The Death Bed. So, what has changed? I simply don’t know.
Tetrapanax Papyrifer 'Steroidal Giant' in the morning light
The shrieking Psycho movie theme song has quieted down in my mind. And yesterday, I offered him The Death Bed, it used to have black plastic two feet under the soil level, to make his own. I only asked that he not move the very happy Tetrapanax Papyrifer ’Steroidal Giant’ that resides in The Death Bed. And he says that he’s up for the challenge. We’ll see how he enjoys creating a new flowerbed. I’ll keep you posted, with pictures, of course.
But this is a real plot twist for us. How do I share our garden with him? Do you garden with your better half? I welcome your advice and stories.