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2005-06-06 - 8:46 a.m. I can make my Mom fix your yard Do you want the little sticks in the ground? Mom asks. Yes, cause sooner or later I�ll ask sweet Roland to come cut some of the herbs and he won�t know what is which. Roland rolls his eyes. You�re putting in three kinds of oregano. I need the sticks. Not really, I say Only one kind of oregano is edible. Roland stops dead, leans on the shovel and looks at me. Ah, the beauty of eleven years of marriage (come Saturday); he didn�t have to do more than raise and eyebrow to convey, �We�ve pulled out all the landscaping on this side of the house to put in an herb bed and now you�ve planting things that aren�t edible?� I turtle slightly and say defensively But the Cuban oregano was cute and variageated. Roland rolls his eyes and goes to plant the cypress bush. I love gardening with my mom and my truck. Ugly juniper tree � gone. Ugly holly bushes � history. Trips to Lowes � three. Trips to Behnke�s - two. Number of basil plants � a cautious three Number of bags of mulch still needed � three. Seems to be some gardening rule - you always need at least one more bag of mulch than you bought. And, the gardening manager at Lowes irritated Mom, so we got 10% off on the big order, yay us. Then, we went to Behnke�s and found orange coleus. Orange. I�ve never seen orange coleus before. I�ve got to exercise more. My 60 year old mom kicked my butt gardening. She brought me two ton of Appalachian mountain river rock that she loaded and hauled herself. I am flabby office worker, hear me pant. It wasn�t all hard labor. I took my mom to the spa for most of Friday, massage, pedicure, manicure, cut and style � the works. I had, wisely, bought her a gift certificate at Christmas to bribe her for future yard work. Of course, she told my manicurist embarrassing stories about how I�m bad at being a girly-girl. (No, I�m not repeating them. Do I look that dumb?) (Yes, I have a manicurist. I use her, maybe, mumble twice a year. I even own manicure equipment because I�m trying to make my cuticles healthy and Meng proud.) In a fit of suburbia-ness, we had Roland�s family and Mel-the-other-daughter over Saturday night to moan about our home project and sore muscles over roasted lamb. His family had moved four azalea bushes, (wisely without involving me because I don�t move azalea�s, I destroy them.) Roland, Mom and I had planted all day Saturday, never landscaping down the entire east side of the house. I spent at least thirty minutes trying to put seedium in the side of a strawberry pot. Mom at Lowes the day before: Are you going to buy that strawberry pot? with just the tone that makes all daughters, no matter their age, roll their eyes impatiently and think they are smarter than their parents. Yes, Mom. I�ll plant some herbs in the openings and I can carry it inside for winter. Parent-patented-shrug that says I�ll-let-them-learn-this-one-themselves. Sounds good. But I�ve never been able to plant the things, and I�ll tell you, you can�t get them watered because it just runs out the sides rather than soaking. I ignore her, because in that moment I�m too old to listen to my mother, and put the pot in the cart. One day later, when I�ve stuffed the little plant in the side of the pot for the fifteenth time I yell, Who thought planting things on the vertical would work?!?! Mom wisely spreads mulch, saying nothing. Later research shows that there are much better types of strawberry pots than the one I bought. This proves you should either use the box-of-knowledge *before* buying, or listen to your mother. Sunday, we went wandered around visiting the Roland family�s various home projects. Mom could hire out as a consultant on landscape and general contracting. We went by Mel�s in the evening, and Mom surveyed the front landscaping. For a few minutes, she�s standing their making suggestions, before she starts weeding the beds. I whisper to Mel I-can-make-my-Mom-fix-your-yard Mel starts laughing and gets a trash bag and pruning shears for Mom, who spends a happy fifteen minutes on constructive destruction. I have to admit, we�d never noticed there was a hosta struggling to grow under that azalea bush. Yes, I still have the Italy stories. But I�ve been sick, then working, then had company. Later. � � Scribble to Theo previous - next �