I never used to read directions. I guess I’ve always thought of it as kind of a waste of time. Like, of course they have to put “instructions for use” in the box. But I can figure it out and do it faster than I can read it and then do it, so why read it?
And in goes the waffle mix, dumped straight from the bag, and an egg and a splash of milk. Regardless of what the actual measurements and directions are for the waffle mix, they always seem to turn out great.
This kind of continued success in my non-reading-direction endeavors has conditioned me to just toss the box along with the handy “instruction for use” paper. My brain and I can figure this out, and quickly.
Well, all that’s changed.
Enter Knockout Roses.
They were beautiful. Stunning. Mature and healthy. So much so that I even considered getting a lattice because they were starting to climb the house.
They were the first greeters to our guests, reaching their blossoms out and saying a friendly “hi, you are welcome here.” And then, in a very sweet fragrant voice, “aren’t I lovely? You should smile because life is lovely.”
They had survived two winters just sitting in pots on our front porch, fully exposed to the weather. In the spring I walked by them and my mood would lift instantly. They were thriving.
Whenever we left town for a few days Brenden would joke “but who will breastfeed the roses?” Because, you know, that’s just the level of care they were receiving.
Michael and I planting them two years ago… They grew to four times this size.
Then one day I went to Lowes. I needed to find a solution to a problem, and fast. There were little holes forming in the leaves, and I wanted to kill whatever was doing this.
The very helpful (super rare) guy at Lowes told me exactly which kind of bug was doing the damage and he marched me over to a shelf with bags. I thanked him, problem solved. Let’s go kill some bugs.
It was a small bag. And when I opened it, it resembled soil. It wasn’t in the form of pellets or some non-organic mixture, it just looked like dirt. My first instinct was to split the small bag between my two very large pots. Hopefully that would be enough to kill whatever bugs were dining on them. I watered generously, and then mentally high-fived myself for winning the war against bugs.
The next few days Brielle and I would walk by the roses and say things like “I think they look better!” and, “The leaves are filling back in!” And they were. Until suddenly one morning I heard, “Mommy, this rose is dying!” Surely she was imagining things… She was so observant, maybe she just zoned in on the one withering leaf she could find on the bush.
I inspected the roses and they looked fine, maybe a little dehydrated? It’s been super hot lately. More water STAT!
Little did I know that the poison I should have administered correctly and conservatively was not only killing the bugs, but slowly killing my beautiful plants.
As I walked by them, as I watered them, as I admired them, I was actively killing my plants.
When I realized what was happening it was too late. And trust me, I tried to save them. I performed CPR on them. I gave them a soil transplant. I dumped all the dirt out of the pots and shook the roots clean and filled the pots up with fresh poison-free soil. I waited days for the color to return to my once vibrant leaves. It was too late.
Yesterday I was going to finally take the huge brittle bushes and gently dispose of them, but I couldn’t. I had to write about them first. I had to celebrate them and also validate them. I had to let them know their death was not in vain. They turned a Direction-Thrower-Outer into a Direction Reader.
I won’t take it for granted ever again that I know how to do whatever needs to be done. I’ll spend two minutes to make sure I do.
Yesterday I was applying sunless tanning cream and it dawned on me that I had never actually read the directions. So I stopped and read the directions of a product I’ve been using for years.
I’m a changed woman.
XOXO
