Garden Rant

An Open Letter to Disappointed Brides Everywhere

NEW YORK (Reuters) - A New York couple sued a florist for $400,000 for using the wrong color flowers at their wedding -- a mistake the newlyweds said caused them "extreme disappointment, distress and embarrassment."

    Dear Disappointed Bride,

I know how hard you worked to come up with the perfect color scheme for your wedding, a day that you have no doubt been looking forward to for years.  And it sounds as though you made your wishes perfectly clear in the 200-250 emails you sent the florist. And lord knows, anyone who spends $27,000 on flowers is entitled to get what they want. But are you sure you want a lawsuit to remember your wedding by?  Is this really the best way to start a marriage?

If I could give one wedding present to every couple I saw walk down the aisle, it would be this:  the ability to overlook flaws, forgive mistakes, release grudges, let go of disappointment, and shrug off misfortune.  That may sound like more than one present, but really, it's all part of the same package.  Let me explain.

You see, you have just agreed to spend the rest of your life with a human being.  And a human being is rather like a flower.  Beautiful at a distance, but get too close and you'll start to see some flaws.  Crumpled petals.  Little bug bites in the leaves.  A disagreeable odor, perhaps.  Messy pollen dropping on your new tablecloth. (speaking of tablecloths, I checked your gift registry, and may I just say:  well done!  Who knew Vera Wang made shrimp servers?)   And all too soon, that flower fades, and you're left with the dry, seedy reality.

Your husband will get it wrong all the time.  And so will you. In fact, if you stay married, I guarantee you many long decades of mistakes and misunderstandings.  That's just part of the deal. So when he comes home with the kung pao chicken after you definitely asked for mu shu pork, you've got a choice to make.  You can have a fight, or you can have dinner.

Because in marriage, in life, in the garden, and in the flower shop, you're not always going to get what you ordered.  When things go wrong, you can handle it with grace, or you can handle it with a lawsuit. 

But honey, litigation won't keep you warm at night.  Just a thought.

What Would Dr. Bleedingheart Say?

Spotted in Dear Abby:

DEAR ABBY: I am a 79-years-young woman living in my own home with my 84-year-old husband, "Jack." Jack was an avid gardener who enjoyed tending our large yard full of roses, fruit trees, and a variety of flowers and vegetables. During the past year, however, Jack's health has deteriorated and he can no longer do much around our home.

I have tried to take over some of the gardening, but haven't the time or energy to keep it up to Jack's standards. Otherwise, I feel we're doing well. I still drive and keep house and enjoy our great-grandchildren. I used to keep my home to very strict standards, but in recent years have realized that a few dust bunnies are not a crime.

Lately, my daughter, granddaughter and even our oldest great-granddaughter have been trying to push us into living closer to them, into a smaller home with less yard and what they believe would be less work for me. Unfortunately, this has led to harsh words exchanged between my daughter and me....Can you help them understand that I have the right to continue to live in my home as long as I wish, and the choice to move should be mine -- not theirs?

ABBY suggested a reality check.  You're not getting any younger, she said.  Your kids care about you. Try to keep an open mind and review your options.

Yeah, well. Let's see if Dr. Bleedingheart can do any better.

Dear Gardener,

Tell your kids to relax.  There is no better place for you and your ailing husband than that garden he's been tending. Dr. Bill Thomas, founder of the Eden Alternative, was recently quoted as saying, "What I want is an alternative to the nursing home, an alternative to the institution. And the best alternative I can think of is a garden. I believe that every elder should have a chance to live in a garden. I believe that, when we make a place that's worthy of our elders, we make a place that enriches all of our lives, caregiver, family member and elder alike. So the answer the Eden Alternative provides is a reinterpretation of the environment elders live in, from an institution to a garden. That's why we call it the Eden Alternative."

Sure, you may need to hire in a little help.  Tell those bossy kids of yours to chip in.  Remind them that gardening is not work to be avoided.  Gardening is living.  You don't need to move to a dull little condo that satisfies your daughter's vision of what old age should look like.  Live in a place where you can flourish.  Get some helping hands when you need them.  Sure, there may come a day when you have to move, but why rush it?  Go outside and cut some roses, and give my best to the fruit trees and the man who planted them.

What would you say, readers? 

You Be Dr. Bleedingheart!

Our good friend Chuck at Episodic Whoreticulture has poured his heart out to us in the comments below.  You can read the whole story here, but basically Chuck is trying to maintain a civil relationship with his neighbor, while simultaneously coveting a neglected rose in his overgrown and possibly hazardous back yard.  Read the tale of woe and take our poll.  Oh, and then check out Chuck's blog, a mixture of politics and plants.  (and by the way, we love, love, love that blog's name.  It was Dorothy Parker who once said, in response to a challenge to come up with a line using the word 'horticulture,' "You may lead a whore to culture, but you can't make her think.")

Gardener Resents Shakedown

(Editor's Note: Why run our own questions when our nation's syndicated columnists are already getting all the good ones?  This ran in Dear Abby; our own Dr. Bleedingheart responds.)

Dear Dr. Bleedingheart,

I spend lots of time and money on my flower garden. While I'm outside working, it is not unusual for complete strangers to stop and ask me for plants and bulbs. Believe it or not, three women were even brazen enough to ring my doorbell.

It is one thing to share flowers with friends and family -- but with people I don't even know? Please give me a clever response to these nervy individuals. --

--APPALLED IN WINCHESTER, VA

Dear Appalled,

How about this:  Laugh as if you know they're joking, and say, "Ah yes, if only (NAME OF LOCAL NURSERY) considered plants and bulbs to be free for the taking, too!"

Or this:  "You want some of these plants? Absolutely!  Let's see what else I've got around here that you might like.  A flower pot? A deck chair? Do you like these flagstones? And after we're done here, we'll head over to your house and take a look at your stuff.  I bet you've got something around there  I'd like to have!"

And finally, "Actually, I love giving away plants, as long as you don't mind digging them up yourself.  Really? You don't mind?  OK, here's a shovel.  Help yourself to all the dandelion, bindweed, and Himalayan blackberry you can dig up."

Uppity Gardeners Ostracized, Stolen From

(Editor's Note:  A longer version of this letter ran in the syndicated 'Annie's Mailbox' column on July 17, 2006.  We present it here in condensed form for further discussion and enlightenment.  The response is entirely that of our own lovely and talented Dr. Bleedingheart.)

Dear Dr. Bleedingheart,

For the past two years, my husband and I have been renovating a house in a transitional neighborhood...but small things keep happening to make me feel very discouraged about living here.

My tulips are picked from the stem, and my marigolds have blatantly been dug up from my flowerbeds...We threw a barbeque and no one came. One of my neighbors ventured over to tell me people thought we were 'uppity.'  We know we are the only college graduates on our block, but what is so uppity about mowing your lawn?  Why take your resentment out on my flowers?

Signed,

Michigan Rehabber

Ask Dr. Bleedingheart

Dear Dr. Bleedingheart,

I’ve been thinking about quitting my job as a software engineer and going to work in a nursery or a greenhouse.  I wouldn’t even mind working for a landscaper, taking care of people’s yards.  I’m tired of sitting in an office all day, and the money just doesn’t mean much anymore.  When I was in college, I lived on a tenth of what I make now, and I was happier, too.  My friends all think I’m crazy.  What do you think?

Signed,
Burned Out

Dear Burned Out,

Your heart’s in the right place, and believe me, we’ve all been there.  But those low-paying, back-breaking gardening jobs with no benefits have some drawbacks, namely that they are low-paying, back-breaking jobs with no benefits.  Have you considered asking for a sabbatical and perhaps using the time off to enroll in a Master Gardener program ?  You might be in a better position to decide if you want a career in the field--and I do mean literally, in the field--if you’ve tried it out for a few months.  Or perhaps you could work part-time for a while until you’re sure you can live without the cushy paycheck. 

Then again, life is short.  Why not take some risks while you’re young?  Follow your bliss, and you’ll be an inspiration to cubicle dwellers everywhere.  Good luck, and write when you get work.

Ask Dr. Bleedingheart

Dear Dr. Bleedingheart,

I got married last June, and don’t get me wrong, we’re very happy.  But lately I’ve made an awful discovery--my beloved hates tomatoes.  Absolutely hates them.  Won’t touch them, not on a sandwich, not in a salad, not even on a pizza.  She says they’re slimy and disgusting and there’s no convincing her otherwise.  She can hardly believe I want to take up space on our patio to grow some this year. 

How could I have missed this when we were dating?  Before we were married, I had visions of us strolling through the nursery, arm in arm, picking out tomato seedlings for our summer garden.  Is there anything I can do?  Is there any way to make a tomato hater into a tomato lover?

Signed,
Tomatoless in Turlock

Dear Tomatoless,

An adult tomato conversion is difficult, but not impossible.  It requires patience and a willingness to sacrifice short-term gains for a long-term victory.  Don’t force every restaurant sandwich tomato on her.  Don’t guilt-trip her into trying your patio tomatoes as a way of testing her love for you.   

Start slowly:  during the first season, offer her one or two of the sweetest cherry or yellow pear tomatoes you can find, preferably sun-ripened and fresh off the vine.  Let that memory linger until the next season, when you might invite the neighbors over for a barbeque and set out a plate of the best heirloom tomatoes:  “Brandywine,” “Paul Robeson,” and--oh, I don’t know-- “Green Zebra,” for instance, drizzled with a good, robust olive oil, shredded basil leaves, and salt and pepper.  Serve it with some crusty bread and nothing else.  If she’s hungry enough, she might just take a little nibble while you’re off firing up the grill. 

Don’t rush her, and remember:  every tomato she won’t eat is a tomato that will land on your plate instead.  Sometimes, a little difference of opinion is good for a marriage.