began to swarm around me like a colony of bees. "Is there a particular color you want?"
"I don't really care," I said, poking my finger at a bag of dirt.
The man stopped and turned towards me. "You don't seem too happy to be here," he smirked.
"Well, I'm not really a flower person. I don't know how to take care of them."
"It's kind of like taking care of a dog," he said. "You like dogs?"
"No," I spit out, wondering if this dog thing was part of some enigmatic gardening language.
As my mother looked on, no doubt listening in, the man led me to the back of the nursery. "How about these?"
"Those are sunflowers, right?"
"Yes, and they are virtually impossible to kill. So, for someone who isn't sure that she can take care of some flowers, this is the perfect plant." He grinned.
"Okay."
-
I helped my mother unload the flowers and carry them to the garden. "Now what?"
"Now we plant them. Let's start with yours," she said, walking over to the foot-high sunflowers poking out of green, plastic pots. "Look on that little card stuck in the dirt to see how far they need to be spaced apart."
I scanned the tiny tag. "It says about twelve to eighteen inches."
"Alright. Here's a shovel," she stated. "Dig the holes."
I stared at her, with nerves exploding, and took the shovel. "I've never done this before," I explained.
"You learn something new every day." She smiled at me. "You're just digging a hole in the ground."
"I know," I resolved, and began my miniature excavation.
"Take them out of the pots and loosen up the roots a little," she directed, as I finished digging the third hole. "Then put one flower in each hole and cover the roots with the dirt you dug up."
My nerves still bursting like popcorn, I began to plant each sunflower, patting the roots solidly in the ground. "Is that it," I asked while pushing down the last bit of dirt. I stood up. "They look straight."
"They look fine. You did a good job," she commented. "Now, they need to be watered."
As she walked down the side of the house to get a jug of water, I stood still, gazing at the life I just gave a new home to. "Hmm," was all I could get out.
Returning with a drink for my new plants, my mother watched my expression of awe. "What are you thinking about," she wondered, the corners of her mouth slightly upturned.
"I was just thinking," I paused, "that dogs aren't really too bad."
"I know," she smiled, handing me the pitcher. "Now let's get these other flowers planted."
"I'll be right there."
Learn more about this author, Marisa Hefflefinger.
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