McGee: Too little, too late for garden

The Lady of the House tore up her garden last week. She had been threatening and threatening but I never thought she'd really do it. She started gardening when we met almost 10 years ago.

You should know she takes this stuff seriously. The Lady of the House loves her gardens. On cold winter days she sits in her recliner with clipboard in hand, mapping out the upcoming summer's garden: Roma tomatoes here, Anaheim chili peppers there along with eggplant, bell peppers and more.

Last summer she issued a warning during those long, hot days saying, "If I wanted to live in Arizona I would move to Arizona. If we have another summer like this I quit."

"I quit," she announced, stomping through the back door the other day. She plunked down a basket on the kitchen table. In the basket were runty eggplants, sad bell peppers and puny tomatoes.

That evening she started ripping out the green beans.

"But they predicted rain," I said, hoping she'd spare the rest of the plants. I imagined little plant voices in my head, "Save us! Save us!"

"Too little, too late," she said, dumping buckets of green beans into the rabbit pen.

"Fruit trees," she announced while ripping up everything else. "We will grow fruit trees from now on. Apples and peaches and plums and apricots. We will grow tree-ripened fruit and buy our veggies at the Farmer's Market. And life will be good."

"I'll always remember how you loved planning and planting your gardens…" I said.

"Yes?" she said.

"Then I wonder…"

"What?" asked The Lady of the House.

"I certainly hope," I said slowly, rolling my eyes upward.

"Spit it out," she said.

"Well I hope I don't tick you off to the point that you toss me away like your garden."

"One can but hope," she said with a smile.

Grant McGee is a long-time broadcaster and former truck driver who rides bicycles and likes to talk about his many adventures on the road of life. Contact him at: [email protected].