We have had such an exciting development at the Allison household. I am just bursting to tell you about it. I mean, we can rank this on exciting news to blog-share:
1. The pregnancy announcement.
2. What I'm about to tell you.
Sam's birth is probably number 3. Probably.
Chuck has grown a wild flower garden of his very own!
Let me show you a picture of it because it is just beautiful.
Aside from the title, this should be the moment you realize this blog post is full of crap - incredibly similar to my husband.
Chuck decided LAST YEAR that he wanted to plant wild flowers. I still have yet to determine what caused this or made him decide this. No wait, I just asked him whilst typing and he said "I wanted something pretty to look at." This actually makes this post even better.
Our backyard, well, how do I say this? Um. It sucks. It's just terrible. We have great plans to finally fix up said backyard and it starts with the fence which we will be doing in July. You may remember that the horrific fence is still standing out of spite, not laziness, and you can read about that here. But since it fully fell over in February (and we got it back up without the neighbors realizing it - win), it is time.
Anywhoo. The backyard is awful. I've included the above photo proof of it's suckage. Chuck decided last year that in this spot where we ripped out some ugly bushes (oh yeah, the backyard used to be worse, if you can believe that. It's OK if you don't.) that he would plant his wild flower garden.
He bought himself a packet of seeds and just sprinkled away. And he waited and he waited and he waited and I laughed and laughed and laughed because I am a bad person. It's not that I wanted his garden to fail, I just knew it would because we are not garden people, our backyard is not an ideal flower garden space, and those generic wild flower packets never work/it just looks like weeds. Ugh, that all just made me sound even worse. I'm just a diggin' myself a hole here, aren't I? I'll go bury myself in the expansive garden.
By the end of the summer, we realized that, officially, the garden was not going to "take off" and that the weed killer poison stuff that had been on the previous summer (and done a wonderful job) was still working. That stuff is amazing apparently.
So this summer comes and Chuck decides to try again. The man is nothing if not committed. And patient. He got out the same seed packet, now expired, and sprinkled away the rest of the packet because, he says, "Why not?". Now that I stay-at-home with Sam I have nothing better to do than text Chuck pictures of the empty flower bed with captions like "Just enjoying the garden view today".
I am such a jerk. I really gotta be more supportive of this guy and stop cutting away on his dreams. Especially when they are adorable - my husband wanted a garden of flowers. Two things in my defense - 1. If you really knew Chuck, you'd know why I was laughing at this. I can't explain it more than that - he just has a way with things. 2. Chuck was also sending similar texts and the wild flower garden jokes and making fun of his idea. Plus "wild flower garden joke" have just hit their one year anniversary so based on the joke by-laws, those will be forever with us and always brought up whenever we see or hear of a wild flower garden.
But then, one day, MIRACULOUSLY that loan orange flower grew.
There he is. Right. There.
Now Chuck is just all about his flower garden, which, he notes, that after two years of work yielded 1 flower so we have a .5 annual growth on our hands. Expect upon further inspection tonight, four more flowers are starting so this post in now void and we have a raging garden on our hands...
So, obviously, he loves his garden. I asked what he will be doing with this windfall of growth and this is what I got.
Stare at it in thought.
Frolick in the garden.
Lay/bask in the meadow like atmosphere.
So, Chuck grew a garden. He's going to work on growing better wild flower gardens in the future and apparently I am going to work on being a nicer person. My bet is he does better with his goal than me with mine.