Spring is a Salesman

If seasons had jobs, Spring would be a salesman.

From the robin puffing out his ruby chest for a mate, to the sporadic 70-degree afternoon, Spring is selling hope. And nowhere is hope for sale more effectively than at the seed display at Home Depot. I am that dupe that Salesman Spring loves. Ever the optimist, and like one of my five wide-eyed children in tow, I can not resist the brightly colored little packages of seeds and neon green bags of "Miracle" soil that promise to help even the blackest of black thumbs to grow something. In my case, anything.

We went to Home Depot for a very boring piece of toilet plumbing (this was to help Sophia from pausing before flushing any potty in our house or anywhere else to say "Mommy is THIS potty broken?"... but that's another story). After the usual Search For The Racecar Shopping Cart and inevitable Argument About Who Gets the Working Steering Wheel, we headed for the plumbing aisle. The only way to get five children to behave surrounded by nothing but shelves of white pipe is to play "Simon Says" with them. But since I needed to actually examine the potty parts, I used my sure-fire backup. A bribe.

"If you guys will just give Mommy fifteen minutes to figure this out I'll let you each pick out a packet of seeds."

Four heads swiveled to the seed display in the distance, then back to me with big smiles. I swear whatever they do to those seed package displays involves magic. Semi-silence ensued with only minor fidgeting, and fifteen minutes later I had my potty part. We headed to the prominent display of seeds.

If only the seed packets would show a picture of the actual seeds instead of What Might Be. Or, if there were a Surgeon General's warning across the picture that said: "Objects in package will probably be a LOT smaller than picture shown, if they grow at all," instead of depicting those perfect plants. Even the plastic pods of dirt disks look so promising: "Just add water!"-- if only. Just add water, and a whole lot of prayer and patience. People with five kids are not patient. The effort required to water seedlings at just the right moment each day without drowning them or drying them out is spent on diapering, wiping, cleaning, and cooking for five human seedlings.

But, oh those bewitching seed packet pictures. Bright, beautiful, bountiful flowers. Fat juicy vegetables. I'm already imagining serving fabulous hamburgers off the grill while the children pick fresh tomatoes to go with them...

The shrieking of two-year-old Alex brings me back from my reverie.

"Sophiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiia!!! That's MINE!"
"LET GO OF MY SEEDS!"
"--how about this sweet corn? Or does it have too much sugar like Froot Loops?"
"--these sunflowers grow 24 inches, but these grow FIVE feet, can we get them?"

I hold my head, hoping stuff, specifically brain cells, won‘t fall out. Seeds. Spring. Salesmen.

"Ok, everyone, STOP TALKING! Just put your seeds in the cart and let's get a bag of soil-- yes that one that says we need a miracle-- and some of those little plastic boxes. I'm not promising this is going to work--" (the standard black thumb disclaimer).

"Yeah, like last year," Lauren pipes up.
"--and before that," Drew adds.

I ignore them and my common sense for the time being, "AND, you all are responsible for watering them." Vigorous head nodding follows while the baby chews on the sunflower seed packet (those pictures really do look good enough to eat).

Well, maybe this is our year: the kids will follow the seed directions, my thumb will turn green, and we'll have fresh-cut flowers and vegetables in 8-to-12 weeks. If you buy that, I've got this great bridge...

Copyright © Elizabeth Hertz Puglise 2009. All rights reserved.