The Rock Whisperer

Instead of one big plot, I'm making little floating veggie gardens using raised beds with rock borders.  Tomatoes here, mesclun greens over there, broccoli and cauliflower nearby, maybe some flowers up front.  Only I ran out of rocks.

My sister suggested using some of Dan's rocks to finish the beds.  He works them into his sculptures, so rows of them march around the perimeter of the yard, waiting for their next incarnation.  Why not stand in as garden borders in the meantime?

I suggested it to Dan;  he's protective of his rocks, and I could tell he was not thrilled at the idea.  "Well.  We could do that I guess.  I'll have to give you a tour about which ones can stand up to being watered."  

I said, "They're rocks.  They live outside.  How can any of them not be watered?  What about when it rains?"  

"That's different."  He is completely serious.

"Honey, that doesn't make sense.  That's like saying some rocks shouldn't be in the sunshine."

"Well, some shouldn't.  But I don't have any of those kinds of rocks."

My relationship philosophy is to respect what's important to the other person, even if I don't agree.  Or (in this case) start laughing too hard to talk coherently any more.

"Well...I don't know what's so funny, honey.  But I love you.  Even though sometimes you don't know about rocks."

Thank god he doesn't take it personally; I'm not laughing at him, exactly... it bubbles up from from the same heartsource that loves him to pieces, and he senses that.  

We decided it would be easier on his nerves to go out and collect rocks specifically to use for the garden.  Rocks that are both water- and sunshine-safe. 


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