I'm Married to an Obsessed Woman
Every morning we wake at different times. I'm the earliest riser, make coffee, eat Cheerios, read the NYT's and do email. Martha wakes just as I'm finishing the NYT's, pours herself a cup of coffee and goes out into the living room and sits quietly, looking at what you see in the photo above; an absolutely gorgeous garden. I kiss her goodbye, often as she sits on the window bench looking out on the garden. You see, that garden was a sea of periwinkle groundcover and briars when we arrived, with the three roses the only thing protruding from the sea of green.
Martha single-handedly pulled out the periwinkle, bought and placed all the plants, dug out the path, planted the smaller trees out near the road, and has been sculpting this gorgeous blue and grey garden in our front yard. It's a show-piece. I love looking at in the morning too, but not like Martha.
Well, today she came home from shopping and asked for help getting stuff out of the car. I asked, "what stuff?" She looked kind of sheepish and said, "some plants." "Some plants" filled the front and back seat and the trunk, wedged in among four bags of top-soil and steer manure. I'm not sure how the shock absorbers on the car made the ride home. I asked "What's with all the plants?"
"Well", she said, "What do you think I've been doing every morning on the window ledge? I've been trying to figure out what to do with this particular piece of the garden." I made the mistake of asking "So this is it? You're done now with the garden? You've planted everything?" Martha smiled a smile only those of you who know Martha will appreciate. She's not done with the garden, plants and soil.