Yes, I admit it. I am an addict. I can’t seem to get past any plant with a For Sale sign on it. Yesterday…

I was on my way home from church and needed to stop at the market for a few essentials. How is it that we always need bread, milk, and eggs—it’s not like I make French toast every day. Anyway, as I approached the door to the market, there they were: hydrangeas arranged oh so beautifully to entice me. “You need me,” I could hear them call.

No, I thought, no, no. I have already surpassed my plant budget two times over this season. I will not buy another plant.

I passed Endless Summer in blue (lovely!) and Lace Caps in pink (charming!) and Limelight (such a refreshing green!). They tugged at my heart, but I resisted.

I entered the store and bought what I needed. Then, as I was returning to my car, I spotted Midnight Salsa. It was as though that hydrangea had a magnet in her flowers. I had to touch her blooms. Before I knew it, she was in my cart and I was paying the ransom at the register.

I wondered how I’d explain yet another new plant to Marty. Oh, he wants me to be happy, but lately I have been out of control with my plant purchases. I drove into our driveway, stopped long enough to sneak the plant onto the front porch, and then put the car away in the garage.

Marty greeted me in the kitchen and reached to put the milk and eggs in the fridge. He’s so happy to see groceries come into the house. I love plants; he loves food.

As I started to set the table for lunch, Marty passed through the room, dressed in his jeans and work shirt. “Are you going to tell me where you want that plant, or should I just dig the hole wherever there’s a space?” he said.

“Plant?” I asked. “What plant?”

“You know, the one you just put out on the porch. It’s a rose, isn’t it?”

“I’ll be right out,” I called, “just as soon as I change my clothes.”

I thank God for the blessing of a husband who understands my expensive obsession with plants (and all those deer repellent sprays!). He may not be able to tell a rose from a hydrangea—but he digs very good planting holes! ❖