Humor

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Spring starts early for us in the parsonage. Not long after the Advent holiday season, the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage begins dropping hints concerning the upcoming spring garden.

Believe me when I say in January I am in no mood to contemplate working the garden for the entire summer. But not so with my Better Half. This wonderful creature of God’s design believes in planning. And when I say planning I mean everything in life is planned right down to the minutest detail.

My life philosophy is summed up quite nicely: “Whatever happens, happens.”

My wife’s philosophy is, “Whatever I plan, happens.” And more often than not, she is able to make good on her boast.

Personally, I like being surprised by certain turn of events and don’t want to know what is going to happen next, it takes all the – oh, what should I say – spontaneity out of life. I like to live one day at a time.

My Beloved knows this and so, starting in January she begins her campaign of dropping hints here and there to get me thinking in a certain direction – the garden. After 30-years of marital bliss, (not to mention a few weeks of sheer terror) I have caught on to her subterfuge.

The ploy goes as follows. Sometime in January, I will open my Bible one morning for my time alone with God and out will fall a packet of carrot seeds. I know my Bible very well and I know someone, who shall remain nameless at this point, has deliberately put this packet of seeds in my Bible. This procedure will replay itself several times during the next few weeks: first carrots, then lettuce and finally watermelon seeds.

Then comes the next stage of her carefully laid strategy.

One morning I will discover underneath my Bible, which I read each morning, a Burpee seed catalogue with several post-um stickers marking certain pages. The ordering page has been torn out and partially filled in with bold, red ink.

Sometime during the day my wife will nonchalantly ask, “Have you seen the seed catalogue around here?”

This is a crucial point. I will act ignorant, which is not a stretch for me. I know to give in here means I lose and out comes the shovel and hoe and you know what that means.
Then I will come to the breakfast table and discover a packet of seeds on my plate with several other packets displayed around the table.

The conversation at the table will go something like this.

Missus: “I heard this year will be a great year for gardens.”

Me: “H’m”

Missus: “Remember how good our garden was last year. I sure did like those tomatoes.”

Me: “H’m”

Missus: “I bet the our garden will be wonderful this year.”

Me: “H’m”

This goes on for several days and my wife, careful not to ask me a direct question, circumvents the subject looking for some opening. If a question is asked, then she knows I will know and all bets are off. The secret of this plan is to wear me down psychologically which would work if I had a mind in good working order.

According to some, there are disadvantages to a mind that doesn’t work although at the time I can’t think of any. My dysfunctional mind has been a lifesaver in many marital situations.

At this point I practice what I call Ignore-the-Missus, which some have confused with ignoramus. There is a difference but I couldn’t tell you what that difference is. There is a fine art in this Ignore-the-Missus tactic, which has taken me several decades to perfect. It boils down to a cat and mouse game and guess who gets to be the rat?

The Ignore-the-Missus routine only takes me so far. Through the years, I’ve been able to get as much mileage out of it as possible. In my situation, I’m glad to get what I get and be happy with it.

My wife puts a great deal of stock in the backyard garden. For some strange reason, she believes vegetables from the garden are better than those from the grocer. For my part, I don’t wish to see the neighborhood grocer going out of business.

It’s not that I don’t like gardens and all the work that goes into such an enterprise…

Wait a minute…

I think I’ve learned something about myself. Yes, I have.

The problem is I really don’t like gardens and all the work that goes into them. I spend hours upon hours of hard, backbreaking work and all I have to show for it is a measly tomato I can purchase at the grocery store for twenty-five cents.

I confess to being horticulturally-challenged. No green thumbs for Yours Truly, but you can be sure I’ve had my share of black and blue thumbs.

During those rare times in the garden, I give some thought to the matter of sowing and reaping. One verse that comes to mind says, “But this I say, He which soweth sparingly shall reap also sparingly; and he which soweth bountifully shall reap also bountifully. Every man according as he purposeth in his heart, so let him give; not grudgingly, or of necessity: for God loveth a cheerful giver” (2 Cor. 9:6, 7 KJV).

Sometimes I have a difficult time being cheerful working out in the garden. When I’m there, I usually think of other things I would rather be doing.

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