Author of a weekly column published each Friday in the Glasgow Daily Times.

Carol Perkins.jpg

Carol Perkins

The number of blueberry growers is increasing in our area and becoming a big business in Kentucky. Loving blueberries the way I do, I suggested that we plant a few bushes, so I could pick my own. Guy gave me his “look,” but what he was really saying was, “You have got to be kidding.”

“Blueberry bushes don’t take care of themselves.”

That’s not what I heard. I thought they were self-sufficient.

In scoffing off my blueberry idea, he was hatching his own. Last year, we tossed our leftover fall decorations (pumpkins and straw) on our vacant lot next to the house, hoping that a vine would emerge, along with a few pumpkins. That is just what we got; a few pumpkins and among the three, two died on the vine.

On a recent trip to Lowe’s, I noticed Guy had added a couple of packages of pumpkin seeds to the cart. I didn’t ask because I knew his plan; that man is obsessed with pumpkin growing. I’m afraid he will retire, want to go into the pumpkin business and expect me to bend over and pick up a few. Not happening.

Gardening gives me with a sense of happiness when Mother Nature provides the hard labor. When I retired the first time in l997, I bought a magnolia tree that was not as tall as I am. Now it reaches the power lines and the smell is divine. My five dollar azalea bushes that were given up for dead in a half price aisle are gorgeous every year. The bulbs that I feared the squirrels would eat before they could sprout continue to pop through the ground at just the right time. My rose bushes manage to bloom in spite of me. Mother Nature is my gardener.

One of my favorite bushes is my Pyracantha, thorns and all! I can look outside the living room window and see the orange “berries” on this bush, knowing that if I get near it, the thorns would “tear me up.” I warn the grandkids to avoid it. Guy cut down one of the bushes because he was tired of being attacked when he mowed the yard. It took me a while to notice it was gone. He tried to tell me it died. It did die; the minute he took the chainsaw to it.

When the time is right for planting, just for fun I will hire someone to dig some holes near the “pumpkin patch” and stick a few blueberry bushes in the ground when Guy is not at home. Then I will wait patiently to see how long it takes him to notice. When he says, “Where did those come from? I will say, “Don’t you remember? You planted them last fall.” Then I will give him a puzzled look as if to say, “You’re slipping.” Then he will wonder if he is or if I am. Keeping each other confused is becoming easier to do! I will have my own blueberries and he will try to figure out how they got there.