A memoir of musings, allegories and adventures covering my inspired life...

Friday, July 15, 2011

Momma said KNOCK you OUT

I’m a half-blood of sorts, part Cajun-part Asian…Filipino to be exact, so there are distinct traits, preferences, and tolerances that I have acquired over the years surviving growing up in that sort of “mixed” culture environment.

One thing that I’ve learned about my mom and her Filipino friends is that they have a passion of sorts for gardening, or live plants in general. They treat their plants like trophies on display, giving tours of the “fruits of their labor” to house guests. They take pride in their ability to grow and multiply different plants, both decorative, and consumable. They even babysit each other’s plants in their absence.

I just want to state for the record…I did not inherit the “Zen gardener” part of my Asian heritage. I find no peace, solitude, relaxation nor joy in the act of raising flora. As a matter of fact, I have quite a list of homicides under my belt in my futile attempts to “bring life” to my home by adding indoor plants or by planting a garden. I have successfully killed at least 30 different varieties of flowers and ferns, not to mention the not-so-lucky bamboo and one very unfortunate cactus named Bernie (R.I.P. Bernie Boo). Yes…I killed a cactus. Don’t judge.

So my mom, who regularly nags me about having a desolate and bare lawn encourages me to beautify my property, decided to surprise me by planting not one, but SIX “Knock Out” rose bushes right in front of my home. I love my mom. So willing to work to make things more beautiful, so inspired by the natural beauty of a HOT PINK rose bush that she wanted to plant them all over my yard, so willing to remind me of how EASY it is to maintain said roses, so obsessed with saying “knock out roses” that she litters her conversations with the phrase time and time again. Did I mention the knock outs are hot pink? I thought so. Did I mention that my home has outdated reddish-maroon wood siding on the front of it? Yep, it sure does. And so my mom was all, “Look Abby! Its pink flowers are sooo bright and beautiful! And they match perfectly with your house because pink matches with red!” No it doesn’t.

Anyway, I am really appreciative for what my mom did, even though now my knock outs are a constant source of stress. “Soooo easy.” Uh-huh. “Just water them once a week, and clip off the dead blooms.” Yeah. So riddle me this mom...why do my knock outs look like KNOCKED OUTS?

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For the record, this is what everyone else’s knock outs look like.
I'm too sexy for your garden.
Another one bites the dust...