Fuchsia

The girls and I went to a plant nursery yesterday. We had planned to go in and get exactly one plant. We left with ten. I want to be angry about it, but I was just as excited as they were, and there is something charming about a bunch of teenagers making jokes about not having enough “thyme” at home.

We’re replacing a butterfly bush that died in the heat wave a few years ago. I say died, but it held on for a few more months, before giving up the ghost over the next winter. Eventually, we cut down the dried husk, and even more eventually, Forrest and the twins yanked the stump out of the ground. (I was away from home with our eldest and called home to check in. They mentioned that they’d recreated the Bluey episode “Stumpfest” without elaborating. I spent the rest of the weekend wondering which stump they’d been talking about and if there would now be one less tree than I remembered. Such is life with those three.)

Shortly after we removed the dead plant, we traveled to the U.K. and took a long walk through Kew Gardens. There, my kids saw a hardy fuchsia and fell in love. They were determined to have one. Unfortunately, our local nursery went out of business and I haven’t been able to find one at the grocery store. So their persistent requests have gone unanswered.

Still, yesterday was a muggy, cloudy summer day and everyone was in a bad mood, so I thrust all of us into the car to go find a new nursery. Within fifteen minutes, we’d gotten out of town and into the rural area north of us, where my kids began pointing out “alpacas!” and “cows!” We pulled into our destination and the grumpiest of the three said, “I want to live here.” Me too, kid, me too.

We walked to the first table of plants, where I immediately saw a hardy fuchsia. Bish bash bosh, job done. We could have gone straight to the checkout, job done. Of course, we didn’t. The four of us wandered and dreamed and looked at tags and eventually left with way more than we anticipated. Some hydrangeas for a neglected back corner, a few beardstongue for my cottage garden (since the coneflowers aren’t cooperating), and yes, some creeping thyme for ground cover around the fuchia.

I would like to tell you that everyone was in an excellent mood for the rest of the day. But I have three teenagers and not even a trip to a quaint and well-supplied nursery will banish all complaints. Still, once we got home, everyone went their separate ways for a while, eager to plant and, maybe, to have a bit of solitude.

As for me? I enjoyed a cup of tea with the spare time (and thyme).