Return for shrubbery
The older I get, the more I realize… upset the sleep schedule and expect the next day to be delayed until ready. We didn’t go out for breakfast this morning; too late getting started. No matter. We did other things, instead.
After learning that one of the kids up the road had picked up a tick (in his hair, not with his fingers), the realization set in: no more believing that we had to be south of some imaginary line in another province to run the risk of Lymes. Not just us, the dog, who doesn’t wear socks and long pants while rambling through the tallish grass. To the city we must go, before the summer progressed.
But, there was another side trip on the calendar, I learned. More plants. Perennials. At a place that was somewhere, about an hour away, with only a phone number for directions. We called, and the recorded voice told us that the place was open this afternoon. A neighbour knew, roughly, where the site might be, so we set off. Saw our first “horse and buggy” traffic, in passing.
At the local store that sells everything, the clerk knew where we wanted to go, and sure enough, a few minutes later the long lane appeared on our left. Not your traditional flower shop, or greenhouse; this is a company that “beds” perennials of all sorts. A large layout, about the size of a football field, by my estimate. On the grounds, a woman with a shovel and a purpose.
Turns out they’ve been selling plants that they “split and propagate” for eighteen years now. We filled the back of the car before leaving, with a need to return for shrubbery.
