A couple of years ago in the early fall, we had to cut down some trees in our backyard because they were in danger of falling onto our neighbor’s garage whenever it stormed. We opted out of having the stumps ground down because we thought they might look great with some pretty pots of flowers on them as they stood in a nice little row. We were wrong. When we tried this the following spring, we didn’t realize the tops of the stumps were crooked so they sat in different angles. It looked quite stupid. But we left them there anyway and just avoided looking over in that direction.
Watering those plants was difficult since it required me to walk through the grass to get to them. I don’t like walking through grass so I try to avoid it as much as possible. Grass is like Mother Nature’s really dirty shag carpet. Shag carpet can look great and all but because it can’t really be vacuumed, I’d imagine all sorts of things getting trapped, or worse yet, maybe even living in those long fibers. When I see grass, I think the same. There’s a lot of little things down there out of sight that I don’t know about. Creepy-crawly things. And the way grass tickles my feet and ankles only adds to the heebie-jeebies. I’ve always said my ideal backyard would be completely paved. Though I’d be okay with fake grass like on the Brady Bunch. But I don’t know why Greg bothered mowing it. Alice should’ve been vacuuming it instead.
Anyway, when I wanted to avoid crossing the grass, I tried watering the flowers with a hose while standing on the other side of the yard. This marked the beginning of the end for these plants. Because the hose had to be on the strongest stream to cross the distance, it would shoot off half the flowers while I aimed for inside the pots. And when I did make it inside the pots, the stream would kick out half the dirt. Eventually there was hardly any dirt left in the pots to weigh them down so the stream would knock the pots off the stumps entirely like in a carnival game. Then I’d have to cross the grass anyway (yuck) to put the stupid plants (what was left of them) back onto the stumps. This happened a handful of times before I gave up. The plants shriveled and died. And consequently, those crooked pedestals were dubbed The Stumps of Shame, the place where plants went to die.
Indoor plants have proven to be a challenge for me as well. First, it is very hard for me to get past the dirt part. I don’t like seeing dirt, touching it, or smelling it. I’d imagine little bugs living their little bug lives in the dirt, in the pot, in my house. Bugs are not allowed in my house. They get vacuumed all the time.
Keeping the plants alive is the other issue. A big one. Someone suggested I try out those mini plants. You know the ones that are about 2 to 3 inches high set in cute little pots. Less dirt. Plus, they’re really easy to take care of, they said. I disagree. I tried a cactus. It died. Ever see prickles pucker? It isn’t pretty. Succulents, while the name may sound sexy, they’re not. And they died. I’ve even tried those plants they say they literally live off the air, no dirt, no water necessary except for a mist or two every once in a while. I think they’re called air plants. No joke. You just stick them in a pretty dish or bowl and they just hang out. Fan-fricken-tastic, right? Those didn’t die. They dehydrated. Now all of my house plants are artificial. Fake plants always look great, there’s no dirt, no need to water, and I just have to Swiffer them every once in a while. No more planticide. I’m sure the plant world is very relieved.
This past week we finally had our stumps ground down since they were starting to resemble big-ass bug condos. RIP Stumps of Shame. Good times. We’re not sure yet what we’ll replace them with. I wonder if they make fake outdoor bushes. I wonder if I could convince my husband to plant them. I wonder if he’ll think I’m joking. I’m not.
Just Lolligaggin' 