attack of the marigolds
As a general rule we try to avoid anything negative here at H&O. Why spend our time and yours discussing things we don’t like when there’s so much good stuff out there? That said, in order to give you the full Growth of a Garden report, I’m afraid I must rant a little about the currently sad state of my front yard.
Yesterday, I got a surprise visit from my landlord (without getting into all of my issues with him, I’ll just say that his visits are a.) too few and far between, and b.) ill-timed, ineffective, and always in his best interest). He started by apologizing for letting the front yard go to pot this spring (OK, I’m paraphrasing)…but then, get this, he segued into scolding JB and I for cleaning it up! Apparently, he didn’t approve of our landscaping plan. No, he wanted marigolds. MARIGOLDS! Maybe my least favorite decorative flower, EVER. You say marigold, I think: HOME DEPOT GARDEN CENTER. After all the work that we put into clearing the weeds and refreshing the soil, he came along and littered the place with marigolds! He even threatened to rip out all of the herbs! “I don’t really like the vegetable garden, eating-from-the-ground idea,” said the Evil Landlord, we’ll call him from now on, to JB. Then he rearranged the pots we’d planted with tomatoes, basil, mint, and arugula, so that everything was “more symmetrical.” UGH, so awkward and unnatural:
what the ____?
We bought those pots, dammit. The wooden boxes I purchased with DW at the Brimfield Antiques Fair––I travelled 200 miles and woke up at the crack of dawn for those boxes! It pains me to look at where the EL put them. It pains me even more to look at what he did to the one good thing that our garden had going for it. Remember this:
Now that spot looks like this:
I am appalled. I am crestfallen. But what I really don’t understand is why he’s so insistent on it looking this way. I know, it’s his building, he owns it, he can do whatever he wants with it. But, he doesn’t have to live with it. He lives in Argentina, and comes back to Brooklyn to check on this place once, maybe twice, a year. Does he know how cheesy the yard looks now? I mean, he did this:
A marigold in the dead tree stump? JANG-kay. There was nothing that I could do to stop it, that was worst part. Even V, the older lady next door who’s lived in this neighborhood for more than fifty years, said it looks cheap. Thank you for your sympathy, V, we know you’ve got our back.