Despite myself, I can feel his laid back approach slowly growing on me. But, it's almost like an out-of-body experience, because everything he does, and especially the way he does it is so contrary to my natural inclinations and bent. I know that the manure mountain has mellowed out a lot of my intensity, but I still think that it is a lot more noble and praise-worthy to change the world out there than change my own back yard. At least, more exciting.
One day he taps on the window and announces,
National Planting Day!
I jump out of bed like a firecracker, decide I don’t need coffee and bolt out of the front door. This is the day I’ve been waiting for! In my book, the sole purpose of gardening is summarized in one word – planting. I hop onto the passenger seat of his white truck and wait for him to fire up the engine. Field-trip to my favorite place on earth – Home Depot!
What are you doing there? He asks, and clarifies it with another question,
Where do you think you are going? I look at him through the rolled-down window, thoroughly confused.
What do you mean, ‘where do you think you are going’? You said it’s the National Planting Day…
Soooo…
Well, we need things to plant. I am getting a little impatient. When I want to plant something, I go to the place where miracles happen every day… our neighborhood Home Depot! He shakes his head and if I didn’t know him, I would think he thinks I am hopeless.
We don’t need to go to Home Depot. We already have everything we need to make your garden a place ‘where miracles happen every day’ – I can’t tell whether he is mocking me or not - right here. With that, he taps his denim shirt pocket.
I squint, still firmly planted in the passenger seat of his white truck, half-expecting to see the blooming perennials in his front pocket.
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