“Hey, I see your bush is finally blooming,” husband said this weekend after cutting the grass. “Bush?” I asked him. “You mean the crape myrtle in the back yard? It’s had flowers on it off and on for a month now.”
“Oh,” he said apologetically. “I didn’t see any until today.” That’s par for the course when it comes to husband noticing anything in the garden. Of course, he does notice the stupid grass that’s growing through the mulch around the crape myrtle and trees in the front yard. Notices it enough to say, “Hey, we need to pull out the mulch and put in rocks. And we need to put in bricks or some kind of border so I don’t keep kicking up mulch out of the lawnmower.”
By we, he means he wants me to pick out some type of border for around the trees. Which I’ll probably do and then it will sit in the garage for a month before we (and I really mean we) get around to doing it
So, ask me in a month — no make that two months — how that project is going. One thing’s for sure, I bet there won’t be anymore crape myrtle blooms left!