Dead Carrot Barrel

A year(-ish) ago, we got married and moved into the Nuthaus (me first).

I set up a few SIPs to try to grow a few tomatoes and peppers. And a bucket to try to grow some carrots.

We did manage to get a few tomatoes and peppers before the Texas heat really kicked in last year. I think we were all looking forward to trying again this year, but my day job just left me too brain-dead on the weekends to even think about it.

The carrots were weird. They sort of arrived this spring, in little baby batches.

Oh, and we also picked up a hibiscus to leave in a pot to cover up a spot on the porch where the tile is falling apart.

We got absolutely slammed with a torrential rainstorm 2 nights ago. The lightning was popping around the way it does on a normal tornado-season weekend in Stillwater. The rain…

I’ve read about rain cascading down in sheets since I was a little kid. This was the second time I’ve seen it in my life. Daphne sat up with me to watch until around 1 am.

She asked about pulling the hibiscus and carrot barrels out of the downpour. I felt sorry for the hibiscus, but the carrots were all dead anyway. So I saved one, but not the other.

When I headed to work¬†yesterday morning, Laura pointed out that the pot we’d set up for the carrots had a blow-out. It was some stupid-ugly container left over from my bachelor days, so I told her to just throw it out and forget about it.

She tried to save the soil that was in it.

I feel like such an ass.

I get attached to some things. They help me remember events that I simply would not without them. I’ve tried to explain this to her to help explain why I hoard things. It’s why she’s promised to never throw away anything without my permission.

She carried this over to a plastic planter full of dirt. I feel like I’ve gone over the top in trying to protect the remnants of my old life (which I know is gone) when she’s this worried about protecting something that’s this worthless.

I can only imagine how painful and frustrating it was for her to try to drag this out of sight, with little bits and pieces of cheap plastic snapping off in her hands every step of the way.

Laura did this for me, on the off-chance that I might care about some of this broken¬†useless crap. I can imagine how frustrating it must have been, and I really wish I’d been there to shrug and let her know that it just isn’t worth wasting our time over dirt.

But I’m humbled and honored (and a little scared) that she put that much effort into something that she knew was useless because she thought it might possibly matter to me.


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