A tale of two gardens

I really like the campus where I work. The gardens are really lush and beautiful, and there are lots of different plants.

This scene here (left) is part of what I look out on from one of the desks I use in the library. The plants are just blooming at the moment, and I love looking at them.

Despite my love of the gardens at work, however, I am no gardener. The only plants I don’t kill immediately are succulents and cacti – probably because they don’t require any mollycoddling and can survive my haphazard watering impulses. I’ve always had family and friends who’ve loved gardening and working in their gardens, but I’ve never been able to find any enjoyment in scrabbling in the dirt, despite having tried to cultivate this habit (pun intended) over the years. It’s not that I don’t like being dirty, it’s just that I can’t understand how spending hours weeding, or digging, or mulching, is enjoyable – I’ve tried, but it all seems like a chore to me. The fact is, when given a choice I’d always rather be doing something else. I watch the gardeners at work – and it is work for them – they spend hours maintaining all the plants around the campus.

M is the same when it comes to gardens. (He probably cares less about plants and gardens than I do.)

As a result, our front yard is looking a bit messy at the moment. The plant growth is lush, too, but it would probably make some of our gardening-loving friends apoplectic, as it’s all completely uncultivated and uncared for – and consists of plants gardeners spend hours banishing from their yards.

I do wonder whether I would put up with such a mess if I regularly spent time in our yard (I don’t), or if my study window overlooked the yard (it doesn’t).