He says that I would be bored, but what does he know
about gardening, about finding help that actually knows what a weed is
(in spite of their enthusiastic proclamations of knowing all about weeds),
and what does he know about drip irrigation, busted lines, water in the basement.
He says that I would be bored, but I think I would be perfectly happy with a tiny garden.
Like this one, with Saint Francis holding some water for birds next to a couple clumps
of beautiful yellow blooms.
I threaten that I want to move away from this house with this big garden,
and I see him cringe, visibly.
So, I'll whittle away at this garden, cover it with hardscape and mulch, get rid of
all those places that simply grow weeds, that become a jungle in the back corner.
I'll get rid of the attempt at a compost pile, which invites pack rats,
how they love the warmth and the food.
He says that I would be bored, but I'm going to do all that I can to get bored by
whittling away at this overwhelming mess of a garden, little by little,
with the help of people who know nothing, but are maybe willing to learn.