Summary

The author, Rosalind Warren, humorously expresses a personal disinterest in gardens and gardening, despite her friends' enthusiasm for sharing details about their own gardens.

Abstract

Rosalind Warren admits to finding gardens inherently boring, despite the current gardening season being in full swing. She humorously describes her friends' eagerness to show and tell her about their gardens, while she feigns interest and counts the minutes until she can return to the porch for a drink. Warren acknowledges her friends' happiness derived from gardening but emphasizes her own preference for experiencing gardens visually rather than hearing about their backstories or care routines. She humorously likens her boredom with garden tours to how others might feel when shown numerous photos of her grandchildren. To address this, Warren proposes a compromise: for every plant shown to her, she gets to show a photo of her grandchild, suggesting that this mutual sharing will make both parties happy, albeit potentially bored.

Opinions

The author has a strong indifference towards gardening and finds discussions about gardens tedious.
Warren believes that gardens should be appreciated visually, without the need for detailed narratives about their maintenance or history.
She compares her lack of interest in gardens to how others might feel when bombarded with photos of her grandchildren, suggesting a parallel between the two scenarios.
The author is aware that her friends need to share their gardening experiences, but she does not share their enthusiasm.
Warren humorously suggests a tit-for-tat solution to balance her friends' desire to share their garden stories with her desire to share about her grandchildren.
Despite her disinterest, Warren is willing to engage with her friends' gardens for the sake of friendship, though she prefers to do so from a distance.

Your Garden is Boring

Please Don’t Tell Me About It

Gardening Season is going full throttle, which means that many of my friends are outside, knees in the soil, tending their gardens.

If you’re one of them, this also means that when I stop by, you’ll want to show me your garden, leading me through it and telling me the story of every last green-growing thing.

Here’s the problem; your garden is boring. Don’t take it personally. I think all gardens are boring.

How does your garden grow? I don’t care.

I’m just not into plants. There are no green-growing things in my house and I pay Angela to do my landscaping. When you come over, I’m not going to take you through the garden and tell you the name of every last plant and how it came to be there because I don’t know the names of any of them, and the only thing I know about how they came to be there is that I paid Angela and she put them there.

You already know these things about me. My indifference to green-growing things is no secret. And yet, here we are, traipsing out into the sunshine together so you can show me how well the tomato plants are doing.

And because we’re friends, I will follow you around your garden pretending to care as you show off each plant and tell me about when you planted it and how you take care of it.

But what I’m really doing is counting the minutes until I’m back on the porch with a nice cool drink.

Don’t get me wrong. I love to admire your garden. From a distance. To sit in a comfy porch chair and look at it as a lovely backdrop. I’m even capable of noticing when it looks particularly photogenic.

But this insistence on telling me about your garden? Can you tone that down a little?

Gardens should be seen and not heard about

Gardens should be a visual. I don’t care about your garden’s backstory. How you decided to put the rhododendrons over there. Your epic battle with the broccoli-devouring bugs. How wonderful mucking around in the soil makes you feel.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m really glad your garden makes you happy. But hearing about your garden doesn’t make me happy.

It makes me want to howl with boredom.

Let me put it to you this way:

I’d rather do my taxes than tour your garden.

I’d rather have my teeth cleaned than tour your garden.

I’d rather vacuum the basement steps than tour your garden.

I understand. You either just can’t believe that I really feel this way, or you don’t care. You need to talk about your garden. It’s not enough to just garden. Gardening is an adventure that must be shared!

I propose a solution.

I get it. Because I feel that way too. Not about my garden. About my grandchildren. I absolutely adore them. I think they’re remarkable. And I love to share stories about every last thing they say and do.

I particularly love to share photos of them.

Want to See a Picture of My Grandson?

Of Course You Do!

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I know that you don’t care about my grandchildren with quite the same intensity. And that, amazingly, you think that looking at photo after photo of my three perfect grandsons can get a little — boring.

I understand that you think your begonias are every bit as beguiling as my two-year-old grandson. You’re wrong of course, but I’m willing to cut you a deal.

Every time you show me a plant? I get to show you a photo of a grandchild.

As my six-year-old grandson Benji often says, “Sharing is caring.” I can share my adorable grandkids with you and you can share your beautiful garden with me.

Then we’ll both be happy! And bored.

Writing Coach and editor-for-hire Roz Warren, who writes for everyone from the Funny Times to the New York Times, can help you improve and publish your work. Drop her a line at [email protected]. (That’s Ros with an “s,” not a “z.”)

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