The Old Man is Snoring

I feel that I’ve turned a corner in my life as an adult type person.

It is raining, cats and dogs and zebras, right now and beyond my normal enjoyment of rain (when you grow up in the desert you are marked by that, I think. I always feel grateful when it rains) I had an instant burst of joy. The source of my joy: I don’t have to water tonight.

This is how I know I’m an adult: I am a person who thinks about her yard. I have a yard and I think about it and I don’t want it to die and I don’t want the neighbors to think I’m tacky for not keeping my yard nice.

Next thing you know I’ll actually be learning the names of all these plants in my yard. The person who owns our house is a landscape architect so we have a pretty yard with a variety of plants. Some, like the daffodils, I know. Others, like that one tree that smells good and the floppy leaf plants in the front, I don’t. I’ve never had a yard that I’ve cared enough about to do my own planting or to learn much about how to keep plants alive. And now I do, on both counts.

I feel so mature.


3 thoughts on “The Old Man is Snoring

  1. Beth says:

    I remember a time when I cared what my neighbors thought. Then they stopped by unexpectedly and I came to the door with a child wearing only a diaper, with spaghetti sauce smeared all over her face. Pretty sure they designated me the White Trash mom right then and there. But OK, I admit, I still water my growing things in the yard.

    • Mr. Monkey says:

      They should have considered themselves lucky that the child still had on the diaper, especially if it was a warm day. I’m sure that sometime this summer we will have a chasing-naked-toddler-in-the-yard experience, probably several of them.

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