I used to say that a gardener could never have too many gloves.
I was wrong.
Today's excavation of the scary closet in the laundry room where I store my garden supplies (which we refer to as the Situation Room) revealed no less than seventeen pairs of garden gloves.
After the cull, the following remain:
A pile of Atlas nitrile-coated gloves, none of which had a single hole in them in spite of the fact that I think of them as the cheap, throw-em-out option at less than five bucks per pair; plus a nice pair of WomansWork gloves (in green) and, of course, the Ethel gloves we all tried out last year. And a pair of unidentified leather gloves I got for Christmas.
Also surviving the cull: a five-pack of gloves a neighbor gave me for Christmas in response to my (apparently too often) repeated assertion that gardeners can always use more gloves. Clearly I need to stop saying that.