stereotypical single woman

Please don’t ask, I’m still not sure what I’m doing about Wayne State. I don’t have a clue and the only advice anyone seems to be able to give me is to “do what you want to do” (I DON”T KNOW!!!!, that’s why I asked for your opinion!!!!!!! help me!!!!!!) so I’m stalling and waiting for some great cosmic stroke of fate to let me know what I should do. Or maybe I’ll just flip a coin.

To distract myself I’ve been playing in the dirt (it’s only worked during the day though, I’ve been having really bad going back to school dreams ever since I got that damn email - you know the ones, you’re in class and not prepared and/or naked.) I still don’t know if I’m going to be planting my vegetable garden at my house or my parents’, but it hasn’t stopped me from buying plants. I was more excited than anyone has a right to be about going to Countryside Greenhouse this past week. The place is enormous and I absolutely love going and looking at all the plants - not to mention it has a full stock of organic fertilizers and pesticides. As far as I’m concerned that’s what made the difference last year in my garden. I used organic growing methods and had 10-12ft tomato plants with and enormous amount of huge (sometimes phallic) fruit, my sister used Miracle Gro and had 6-8ft plants with loads of leaves and minimal fruit. I was so excited to see what types of weird and wonderful heirloom tomatoes I could get this year and, well, I was horribly disappointed. The only heirlooms they had were Brandywines. I’ll check back in a few weeks, maybe it’s still a little early in the season. (Although a few did sneak home with me from other stores, so maybe I won’t have to go back, click on the picture to see what veggies I’ll be begging people to take off my hands this fall) So to make the trip to Allendale at least worth the gas out there I went to go look at the roses.

I love roses. True, most women do, but I prefer to grow them than to receive them in a bouquet. There are so many varieties, colors, shapes and fragrances. They also bring back wonderful memories. The summer I was working in Cedar City the morning walk from my apartment to the theatre took me and my roommates right by an old woman’s house that had the most amazing and inviting rose garden. When the wind was blowing you could smell her garden a block away, it wasn’t overpowering, it was subtle and beautiful. In the mornings she and her husband would be outside reading the paper and drinking coffee on their deck and they would always smile and wave at us. In the evenings on our walk home they would both be either puttering in the garden or just sitting outside talking. It was just such a beautiful and peaceful sight that every time I walked by my thought was “I want that. When I’m old I want to be able to sit back and enjoy my backyard rose garden with my husband too.” Right now I don’t have the husband, but I’m starting to collect the roses. Seriously, someone needs to stop me, because I’m running out of room for them.

My taste runs toward toward the Old World and English roses - huge, colorful, fragrant blooms. My friend Julie bought me a Teasing Georgia last year for my birthday that has beautiful buttery yellow flowers. I also received two unknown red climbers from my mother that had been my Grandma Y’s - the plants have to be at least 40 years old. Neither had been doing exceptionally well at my parent’s house so I’m hoping that with a little TLC they’ll thrive this year in my yard. I also have a couple of white bushes (a Margaret Merril and a White Chipper) that my father bought for me (because they were free after rebate at Menards) so hopefully they’ll bloom later this summer and I’ll get a better idea of what they are. And then yesterday my sister bought me an Angel Face and Sunbright for my yard as well. And I just know that next week I’ll be going back for and Abraham Darby that I put back and possibly a Jane Austin. This is turning into an addiction.

I’m not the only one who likes them either, the boys have developed a taste for cut roses - three times this week they woken me up by dumping a vase over.