We've lived in our townhome for nearly nine months (something about nine months always makes me shudder). We've painted the entire house, decorated and accessorized just about every nook and cranny.
I thought for sure we'd have more arguments about making our house a home. It's bound to happen somewhere between paint samples, throw pillows and pillar candles and creating the ideal man cave. Thankfully, we've made it through that process with all appendages still intact.
Now we're on to landscaping. We have a private courtyard and a modest backyard to make all our own. I hate making choices and now I have to choose grass seed or sod, white diamond rock or mulch, perennials or annuals, flowers or bushes...ugh.
It's exciting to complete another layer to our house. To say, "I did that". Or at the very least, "Nick did that and I did a fabulous job supervising."
Our neighbors recently hired a landscape company to redo their entire frontyard, driveway paver stone, courtyard, etc. So I thought we could borrow a few ideas and do it ourselves.
I guess that comes from being a cliche woman who loves HGTV and DIY Network. Anytime Nick walks into our family room and one of those channels is on I see the look of terror on his face, "What is she going to have us do now?"
After discussing a few things we liked Nick decided he'd get started one day while I was at work. While I'm sure he wanted to get a head start, part of me has an inkling that says he was avoiding being "supervised".
He removed the old, ugly, pinky-coral colored rock from the pathway and then decided to make a gametime decision. See there were (note: past tense) these hostas planted along the pathway. While they were probably a good idea at the time they were planted they grew of course. And they grew and they grew and they grew. They practically took over the pathway through our courtyard and left about six inches worth of clear walking space. If you veered from that path you were guaranteed to have to trudge through what felt like a jungle along your feet.
I had said how hostas were such a hearty plant they would make a great filler in our backyard. Nick had some deep rooted (no pun intended) hatred for those hostas and said he just wanted them gone.
We went back and forth, back and forth about what to do with the plants. Dig them up and pitch them? Dig them up and donate them? Dig them up and transplant them? Again - choices to be made.
I thought we had decided we would put them in the backyard. I came home to a clear pathway prepped for solar lights and new rock. The pile of old rock was left to be picked up...but the hostas were nowhere to be found.
I was excited to get them planted in the backyard. Add some greenery to a blase landscape. When I asked where they were Nick looked coy and claimed he didn't know. He changed the subject quickly and went about his business. I knew something was up.
The mystery of the disappearing hostas baffled me for a few days until I made my way into the garage to take out the recycling. As I walked over to the recycling container I saw it - a weak, limp little hosta leaf poking out of the garbage can. I peered over the edge I saw the damage and the landscaping inhumanity! He mutilated those poor hostas! The hostas were torn to bits leaving no chance for a transplant.
Determined to have not a single hosta in his landscaping plan, my husband took matters into his own hands. He was determined to have his way. He would stop at nothing. Now I have to live with my husband - the plant killer.
© Nichole DeMario, 2010 – 2012. All rights reserved
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