Who has time 
for plants?

Comments (...)

E-mail this story

Print this story

Comments

Share

Upon move in, about two months ago, Momica purchased plants to hang from the beams of my apartment on Adams Street — red begonias and multi-colored impatiens.

For watering, she purchased an easy pour green container. The first two weeks, I used the green container along with a 20-foot hose purchased from Walmart.

I was attentive, checking their growth at lunch, watering like I was extinguishing a fire.

The plants grew like Bonds, new colors appeared.

According to the plastic instructions staked into the Miracle Grow, the impatiens were to be red, white and blue colored. The plants were so elated, hues of purple sprouted.

The honeymoon quickly ended, unfortunately, about a month later.

Monday, Mike Moffitt, manager of Cornerstone Financial, and I visited as I stood on my paint-speckled step ladder, attempting to restart their heartbeats.

He’d just returned from his Anchorage, Alaska, vacation. He visited family.

I too went on a small vacation; Stormy Lee, some friends and I visited the Levines — Scott and Christina — beginning Friday.

Their daughter, Phoebe Sue, completed her baptism Sunday in Clinton.

However, before departing, I forgot to phone Momica, asking her to hose the plants.

Consequently, the plants suffered. The leaves were lifeless yesterday, hunchbacked and with gaping holes. Insects had snacked on the plants all weekend, like they were potato chips.

But, I’ve diagnosed the plant problem.

The summer has been full sprint, crammed with entertainment. The Thomson wedding ensued in June. My brother, Korey, and I suit up next month as ushers for our brother Steven Fastenow’s wedding; his bachelor party happens later this month.

We’ve played in one best-shot golf tournament, obviously, that’s not enough. I read yesterday, a retirement party for Creston/O-M football coach Dick Bergstrom is slated for 7 p.m. July 24 at A&G Lounge.

Tom and Momica recently upgraded boats — a boat equipped with serious power, white leather, sectioned carpet, accessible restroom and blue cooler iced with beverages. Being there, too, on the water, hasn’t happened enough.

And in April, I purchased a DNR certified fishing license. I’ve fished once, none with Dad.

At work, there is copy to be written— the Monday/King saga, reviewing unemployment rates, snapping photos of fair piglets.

Oh, and to have an “Iron Heart” I should work out 30 minutes, five times per week, Men’s Health suggests.

But, if I gleaned anything from this weekend, staying with the Levine family, it’s this. ... I’m not busy. I’ve don’t even have kids.

I don’t wake up before the sun, surviving on three hours of sleep. I don’t give kitchen-sink baths or change diapers.

I guess, I’ll live with the truth.

I’ll never have time for plants.

Comments