Impatience

I am a petulant child. When spring first sprung, I wanted my tulips to bloom immediately.

I wanted the plants that were sprouting up in my perennial garden to be tall instantly. (I was also relieved that there was green there in the first place—I was just praying this baby would survive for year two.)


I wanted the greenhouses to be full of plants so I could spend spare time I didn’t really have (and spare change I didn’t really have) buying veggies and flowers and more veggies to plant in my lonely pots.

I wanted it to be the height of summer, with all the yards around town in full bloom, so I could ogle them on my walks with Butter. Immediately.


I've heard patience is a virtue. Whether it is or not, when it comes to my plants, I’m not at all patient. How can you be, after spring starts teasing you?


Perhaps patience is something cultivated alongside gardening experience. If that’s the case, come back in 20 years and we’ll see if I’m OK with the slow progress of early spring. My guess? Probably not.


Only now that we're moving past spring into summer weather (kind of—what's with all the rainy, dreary days?), I've done a 360. Now I want to put the brakes on. These flowers in my perennial garden are blooming too quickly. I haven't had enough time to enjoy them yet. I'm missing my pretty plants and their peak because I've been going out of town on the weekends. It's just not right.


So I've asked these lovely ladies


And the whole darn garden actually


To stop. To freeze (but not literally—that would be bad) until I get back on Monday. And then I'll have almost a month of uninterrupted time in L-Town to enjoy the perennials and the pots and everything else.

That's not too much to ask, is it?