For the twenty-something women, spring gardening is an opportunity. They crowd into the annual flower section. They want color, they want a lot of it, and they want it now. Many have husbands in tow who are piling potting soil, peat moss, fertilizer, and mulch on the carts which are already laden with flats of marigolds, impatiens, and begonias.
Middle-aged women shop without husbands. And they steer clear of the annual section, instead preferring to plant perennials. They’re more than willing to sacrifice an “endless riot of color” for the sake of “not having to do it all again next year.” What was once an opportunity is starting to feel like a chore.
Senior citizens are seldom seen at the nursery. I can only guess that they are talking to contractors about completely paving over their little patch of paradise. Or maybe they’re talking to real estate agents about selling the old homestead and moving into a condo.
I couldn’t decide where I fit in. So I bought three packages of seeds, one for everyone who currently resides at my house.
For me, I got zinnias. I planted zinnia seeds when I was a newlywed and they actually grew.
For my husband, I got cilantro seeds. He’s been on a cilantro kick of late and has started bringing copious amounts home from the local Baja Fresh, where they serve it on their “fixings bar.” It’s embarrassing.
For the cat I got catnip. She needs some excitement in her life.