The Sorry Gardener

I’ve been laying low for the past week so I didn’t have to admit that I lost my innocence. I know you’ll all be shocked. And, on top of that, I’m still buying plants.

But how can I not? Boxhill Farms has irises on sale 20% off, and most of them are in bloom so I don’t have to divine what they look like from a sepia-faded plant tag or bad Internet photos ranging from chartreuse to fuchsia. It’s important to see them in living color, so to speak, because I’m being a bit more discriminating now about what I buy. Okay, I’m actually just running out of space.

So Saturday, I unloaded the back of the car after my “discriminating” (i.e. limited) shopping extravaganza and placed the plants where I planned to plant them—ah, yes, I actually think about that now before I buy. You know, at this rate, I just might become a gardener after all.

But what did I not find after I unloaded? The innocence iris that I simply had to have because it may very well be the most beautiful iris that I have ever seen in my life … until that other one I bought blooms.

“Hmm,” I thought. “I’m pretty sure I bought some innocence. I wonder where it is?” So I wandered over to see if I accidently put my innocence in the holding bed out of habit. But it was not to be found.

“Hmm,” I thought. “Maybe I was so discriminating that I decided not to buy any innocence. Maybe I’m becoming pennywise.” Then I saw the new pot of ajuga that I probably didn’t need, so I had to rule out pennywise.

“Hmm,” I thought. “I’m quickly narrowing the options to Alzheimer’s here.” The women in my family have a long, if not proud, heritage of forgetting that the corn is in the microwave until after supper, when they’re putting in a cup of tea. Sometimes this also occurs with green beans. So I looked for my innocence in the microwave, but I found only splatter.

As the weekend passed, I got more and more disgusted with myself for losing my innocence. I know when I’ve found a good plant, and I know what not to let go. And at some point, I’d spent more time worrying about losing my innocence than it was worth.

When I got into the car Monday morning, there was my long-lost innocence on the passenger side. “Hmm,” I thought. “I’m pretty sure I lost that in the back seat.”