The Compliment Thief
The past few days, I’ve taken over watering duties as Liz has been home sick, and under the weather. We have a small sprinkler thing that I could use, but I dislike the idea of leaving it in one spot for five minutes, then coming out and moving it, then leaving it for 5 minutes… etc.
I’d much rather just stay out there and manually water everything. So after work, this is usually the first thing I do. It’s usually for about 20 minutes or so, as I move from plant to plant (spending extra time on the Japanese maple and the small pine tree by the stairs).
There are always a lot of people coming and going down our street: people walking home from work, or from the nearby grocery store. There are parents with their kids, students walking to/from campus, joggers.
At least once (if not more) every evening, someone will mention the yard to me as they pass by. They’ll say things like “Looks great!” or “Looking really good!” And each time that happens, I say “thank you” but I feel the need to correct them regarding their praise. I’m the guy holding the garden hose, but it was Julie and Liz who did all the hard work. It feels wrong to take credit for the yard. It’s like a waiter taking credit for a chef’s work: I’m there by proximity, but I didn’t create the thing.
There have been a few moments where Liz and I have been in the car, parked right by our house. And as we were leaving or coming home, we’d see people walking by our house – and they’d pause or turn their necks to check out the new plants.
Our front yard looks really nice. Liz and I both like it a lot. And so too, it seems, do our neighbors and passersby.