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My wife is a dedicated gardener. Not a particularly good gardener - just a dedicated one.
She planted some (what she called) bulls-eye daisies just outside of the lounge window.
My friend across the road said they looked like meadow weed - cowslip - or something similar.
With all of the sun and rain we've had recently, they've sprouted ridiculously. Riotously, even.
We can't see out of the window anymore. I feel like a fox, peering through the undergrowth.
I asked her how long it would be before she would be digging them up and binning them.
(the brown bin is due for collection next weekend)
She seemed quite indignant.
When I explained that I had previously enjoyed looking out of the window at the world going by, she said "I don't know why I bother."
"Well, when you're in the garden, you can't be in here doing housework - that's why you bother." I replied.
She's taken her mother to the local super-store & garden centre. I'm not sure what I said wrong, but she seemed quite troubled as she went out of the front door.
Perhaps she'll bring me something nice back for my tea.