Dear Darling Husband,
I love you very much. You are a wonderful father, and usually a pretty great husband. But there are some serious garden related issues that we need to discuss. First of all, contrary to how it may seem, digging in the dirt, pulling weeds, and raking leaves are not my favorite things in the world to do. If someone came up to me and said let me do that, I'd happily pass the rake and go get a pedicure. They are chores, like folding clothes and washing dishes. I do laundry because I want clean clothes, wash dishes because I want a clean kitchen and garden because I want a pretty garden. So when you see me out there, don't act like I'm goofing off. Just because I'd rather be outside on a nearly perfect, just-like-summer-but-without-the-bugs day than stuck inside, doesn't mean I'm a slacker. At least I'm doing something productive, instead of playing video games or running RC cars, like someone else I know.
Now for the really pressing issue. DON'T SPIT IN MY GARDENS! Don't act like you don't do it, I've caught you! It is gross! So when I'm weeding this afternoon and pull some weeds and STICK MY HAND IN A BIG LOOGIE, I think I'm understandably upset. Even more so when I start to gag so hard I throw-up right in the front yard. Oh, and tip for the future: When I come inside to tell you what happened and can't because I'm still gagging and throwing up, try not to laugh your ass off, okay? Seriously, if it happens again, we are seeking counseling.
Love, your wife.
(Here's a pick of the amaryllis, looking very little like the Garden Pinks I planted. )