Valentine’s Day is a tricky holiday for men. I don’t envy their dilemma. Last year, I admit, I turned up my nose at the proffered chocolates. Didn’t he know I was trying my best to lose weight? Had he not brought the chocolates, I would have despaired that he thought I was fat.
This February I will be kind to my husband and hint that he buy some of the ugliest roses in town for me. No, not the last bedraggled cellophane bouquet at the grocery on Valentine’s Day. My gift suggestion is even cheaper and more homely than that: a bare-root rose bush. A display caught my eye at Dollar General this morning. Thick, stubby branches covered in thorns poked up from a brown plastic sack prominently labeled “$3—PLANT NOW.” I dug around in the display, like the good bargain hunter that I am, until I spotted a cache of salmon pink everblooming climbers. I can just see them cascading over my weathered gray picket fence this summer, and every summer after. If I’m lucky, I’ll be presented with an armload of these blooms-in-waiting instead of cut flowers already starting to fade. I can’t imagine a lovelier sight, can you?
Did it happen? My love language is not gifts -- and I'm a lousy gift giver myself, so I don't mind if DH doesn't do anything for Valentine's Day.
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