Confessions of a Non-Gardener Married to a Gardener

 Let me start with a confession. My wife is the gardener in our family. She plans. She plants.  She whispers encouragement to wilting tomatoes. My role? I buy the plants (under her supervision), I water, I nod approvingly at her vision, and then I enjoy the results from a lawn chair with a cold drink.

It's a system that works beautifully.

But here's the thing. Over the years, I've made the mistake of thinking I could help. I've tried. I've blundered. I've planted things in the wrong places, watered things that should have been left alone, and once, I'm still not allowed to forget this, I "pruned" a hydrangea into something that looked like a stick figure.

So, whether you're the gardener or just the spouse who carries the bags of soil, let me share some lessons learned. Because gardening blunders can happen to anyone. Yes, even right in your front yard where the neighbours can see.

Here's the thing about lawns. They're supposed to be green. If yours is starting to look like the soil underneath is staging a comeback, it's time to reassess. Watering, fertilizing, and mowing are not suggestions. They are the holy trinity of lawn care.

If nothing works after you've tried everything, don't despair. You have options. You can replace the whole thing. Or you can get creative. Consider ground covers like periwinkle or thyme. Ask your local nursery for ideas. They love nothing more than a homeowner who walks in and says, "My lawn is dead. Help me feel better about it."

What did we do? Artificial turf. Looks great. Mows itself. And my wife no longer has to watch me pretend to know how to operate a lawnmower.

Here's a hard truth. If your gardening tools are stacked in the garage because you think they're not worth the storage space, they're not just looking like junk. They are junk. Full stop.

Go through them one by one. Ask yourself a simple question: "Do I have a specific plan for this tool in the next six months?" If the answer is no, it's time to say goodbye. If the answer is "I might need it someday," that's a no disguised as hope.

Your garage will thank you. And when you actually need a tool, you'll be able to find it without excavating.

Weeds are the uninvited guests who show up and refuse to leave. The solution is simple in theory, maddening in practice: keep on top of them.

Check for weeds regularly. Not once a season. Regularly. When you see one, dig it out by hand. Yes, by hand. There's something deeply satisfying about pulling a weed and knowing you've won this small battle.

Then seed the empty areas so something you actually want grows there instead. Think of it as evicting bad tenants and finding good ones.

If your garden is the size of a postage stamp, take heart. You don't need more land. You need more imagination.

Think vertical. Walls, arbours, trellises, these are not just decorative. They're real estate. Let plants climb. Let vines take over your fence. Create a lush jungle in a space that previously felt like a parking spot.

It's amazing what happens when you stop thinking of a garden as flat and start thinking of it as a multi-story building.

Here's a lesson I learned the hard way. Most garden plants do not survive winter. They don't. They give it their best shot, and then the frost comes, and they turn into sad brown skeletons.

So, when you're planning your garden, think about plants that can actually handle the cold. Evergreens are your friends. Plants with winter interest, interesting bark, persistent berries, and architectural shapes keep the garden from looking like a graveyard from December to March.

Or do what we do: plant annuals, watch them die, and then stand in the garden centre in spring as if nothing happened.

A fence separates your property from your neighbour's. But it also frames your garden. It's the backdrop. It's the stage. If your fence is falling over or covered in mildew, your garden will look like a beautiful painting in a crumbling frame.

Maintain your fences the way you maintain your plants. Paint them. Clean them. Pretend they matter, because they actually do.

Here's what I've learned from decades of being married to a gardener. Gardening is not about perfection. It's about showing up. It's about trying something, failing, trying something else, and occasionally ending up with a tomato that tastes like sunshine.

So, if your lawn is patchy, your tools are buried, your weeds are winning, and your plants die every winter, take heart. You're not a bad gardener. You're just a gardener who's still learning.

And if all else fails, marry someone who knows what they're doing and buy them nice plants. That's what I did. It's worked out beautifully.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a lawn chair to sit in and a garden to admire. Someone else did all the work.

31 Puns and Dad Jokes About Spring, Summer, and Still Going Strong

My last post on boomers turning 80, so this is in honour of the first Baby Boomers turning 80, and the myth that seniors are slowing down, here's one joke for every day of the month. Enjoy while having a coffee, preferably while sitting in the sun.

1.      I told my doctor I was worried about slowing down. He said, "You're 80. You're not slowing down. You're just shifting into scenic mode."

2.      Spring has sprung, and so have my allergies. At this age, I'm not sure if I'm sneezing or just practicing for my eventual exit.

3.      My neighbour asked if I was planting my garden this spring. I said, "Absolutely. I've got perennials older than you."

4.      You know you're 80 when you look forward to spring cleaning because you finally remember where you put everything last fall.

5.      I love spring. It's the only time of year I can blame my creaky joints on the weather and not just being 80.

6.      Summer arrived and I bought a new lawn chair. It's not that I plan to do less. I just plan to do it sitting down.

7.      My granddaughter asked if I still water ski. I said, "Honey, at my age, getting out of the bath is an extreme sport."

8.      I told my friends I was training for the Senior Olympics. They asked what event. I said, "Getting up from the couch without making sound effects."

9.      Spring is when I finally put away my winter coat. By which I mean I hang it in a different closet until next October.

10. My wife asked why I was staring at the garden. I said, "I'm waiting for the tomatoes to grow. At 80, you learn to enjoy the slow shows."

11. I love summer barbecues. Nothing says "I'm still vital" like standing over a grill and pretending the smoke isn't making me cough.

12. Someone asked if I use dating apps. I said, "No, but I use a pill organizer. Same thing, really, sorting through options."

13. Spring is here, and I've started walking daily. Two blocks to the café, two blocks back. By summer I hope to make it three.

14. My doctor said I need more vitamin D. So I sat in the sun for an hour. Then I needed a nap. That's called multi-tasking at 80.

15. I told my grandson I used to run marathons. He asked if I still run. I said, "Only to the bathroom."

16. Summer means patio season. Nothing makes you feel young like sitting outside and complaining about the heat with people your own age.

17. I asked my friend how he stays so active. He said, "I chase my hat on windy days."

18. Spring is when the world wakes up. I wake up too, eventually. Usually after coffee. Sometimes after second coffee.

19. My wife said we should take up biking. I said, "I'm 80. The only thing I'm pedaling is my version of what actually happened."

20. Summer evenings are the best. Nothing beats sitting on the porch, watching the sunset, and trying to remember what you did that day.

21. I saw a senior wearing a shirt that said, "I'm not retired. I'm a professional grandparent." I asked if I could borrow it. He said, "No. Get your own."

22. Spring cleaning is simpler at 80. I just throw things away and hope I don't remember needing them later. So far, so good.

23. My friend said he's taking up bird watching. I said, "That's just regular watching with binoculars because your eyes are shot."

24. Summer is here, which means I can finally complain about the heat instead of the cold. Variety is the spice of life.

25. I told my doctor I feel like I'm slowing down. He said, "You're not slowing down. You're just moving at a speed that matches your ability to remember what you were doing."

26. Spring is when I start my annual attempt to organize my garage. By summer, I've usually organized it into piles I can no longer see around.

27. My wife asked if I still feel passion. I said, "Absolutely. Passionate about where I left my glasses."

28. Summer is great for naps. Spring is great for naps. Actually, all seasons are great for naps. That's the secret.

29. Someone asked if I use social media. I said, "Yes. I'm very social. I wave at people from my lawn chair."

30. I told my kids I was thinking of downsizing. They thought I meant the house. I meant my dessert portions. One cookie is not enough, kids.

31. Here's to being 80. We're not slowing down. We're just moving at a speed that lets us enjoy the flowers, complain about the weather, and make jokes about our knees. It's called living.

Happy spring. Happy summer. Happy 80 years of proving that growing older doesn't mean growing quiet.

Happy 80th, Baby Boomers: We haveChanged Everything

Well, it's official. The first of us (the Baby Boomers) is turning 80 this year. Born in 1946, right after the world decided it was done with war and ready for something else, we have spent the last eight decades doing exactly what we have always done: showing up, shaking things up, and leaving our mark on absolutely everything.

So, in honour of this milestone, let's take a moment to look back. Not in the history books, but at the institutions we have quietly (and sometimes not so quietly) transformed.

When we entered school, classrooms had chalkboards, wooden desks, and a strict "sit down and be quiet" policy. By the time we were done, universities had become bustling centres of debate, night school was a thing, and lifelong learning was something people actually aspired to. Today, we are still signing up for courses, learning French, mastering pottery, and generally keeping community college enrollment numbers afloat.

We made education something you do for life, not just something you survive until you're eighteen. And we proved that the only thing better than being in school is being in school with people who actually want to be there.

Remember when retirement meant a gold watch and a slow fade into gardening? Boomers took one look at that and said, "Actually, we're not done yet." We invented the concept of working past sixty-five, not because we had to (though some of us did), but because we still had things to say, projects to finish, and younger colleagues to keep on their toes.

We turned the workplace into something more than a place to punch a clock. We demanded meaning, flexibility, and the right to leave at 3 p.m. for a grandchild's recital without being penalized. And in doing so, we made things better for everyone who came after us.

Here's where we really went rogue. Prior generations accepted aches and pains as inevitable. We said, "What if we just… didn't?" We invented jogging (apologies for that), popularized yoga, turned farmers' markets into social events, and made it normal for an eighty-year-old to discuss their cholesterol levels with the same intensity they once talked about rock lyrics.

We have also transformed how we think about aging itself. Dementia, isolation, and mental health are no longer whispered about in corners. We have demanded better care, better support, and better research. And we have shown that growing older doesn't mean growing smaller.

When we became parents, child-rearing was still largely a private affair. By the time we became grandparents, we had turned it into a public institution. We were the ones who showed up at school concerts, soccer games, and dance recitals with cameras ready and snacks in our bags. We redefined what it means to be an extended family, often stepping in to help raise grandchildren in ways earlier generations rarely did.

And community? We made it clear that community is not something you passively belong to. It's something that we build. Whether through service clubs, neighbourhood groups, or simply knowing your neighbours' names, we kept the idea of local connection alive in an age that keeps trying to replace it with screens.

Let's take a quick tour of how we impacted institutions:

Houses of worship. Once rigid and formal, many have adapted to become more welcoming, more flexible, and more focused on community service, thanks in large part to those of us who asked questions and refused to accept "because that's how it's always been" as an answer.

The arts. From folk music to film festivals to community theatre, we kept culture alive at the local level. We are the ones who buy the tickets, donate to the galleries, and make sure the symphony doesn't disappear.

Volunteer organizations. The numbers are clear: seniors volunteer at higher rates than almost any other age group. We have shown that retirement isn't about stepping back from life; it's about stepping into work that actually matters.

The food bank. Speaking of which, we have also been among the most generous donors and volunteers. We remember what it was like when neighbours helped neighbours, and we made sure that tradition continues.

Of course, no retrospective would be complete without acknowledging that we have also been known to, let's say, leave our mark in ways that weren't always requested.

We popularized the open-plan office (apologies to anyone who has ever tried to concentrate). We invented timeshares (we'll leave that there). We made beige interiors a national obsession for a solid decade. And we somehow convinced everyone that a salad could be a complete meal if you added enough croutons.

But these are minor quibbles. The bigger picture is this: we have never stopped showing up.

As I said yesterday, the first Boomer turning 80 this year. However, we are not the 80 of previous generations. We:

• Debated the merits of different streaming services with the same energy once reserved for Vietnam War protests.
• Text our grandchildren with alarming frequency and surprising accuracy.
• Are more likely to be planning a trip than a quiet afternoon.
• Still work, still volunteer, still show up at the gym (though perhaps with more stretching involved).

We have rewritten the script on what it means to be eighty. And you're not done yet.

Here's to all of us Boomers hitting 80 this year. We have changed education, work, health, family, and pretty much every institution we touched. We have refused to go quietly, and we have shown that aging is not about fading; it's about adapting.

The world is different because we were in it. And it will keep being different because we are still in it.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a yoga class to get to. And yes, I'll be complaining about my knees the whole time. Some things don't change.

Happy 80th to the first of the Boomers. Here's to the next chapter, whatever we decide to do with it.

Boomers Turning 80 This Year

14 years ago I posted about Boomers turning 66. The first of the Boomers are now turning 80 and we are still making an impact. There’s been a lot of chatter lately about the first wave of Baby Boomers turning 80. The pundits are warming up, the headlines are writing themselves, and somewhere, someone is preparing a serious discussion about “the implications of aging.”

Truth is, most of us aren’t that interested.

We’ve lived long enough to know that life isn’t a report, it’s a relationship.

And that brings me to The Beatles and their song “When I’m Sixty-Four.” It wasn’t really about getting older. It was about something much more important: how do you keep love alive as time marches on?

That question doesn’t retire at 65 or 80.

The other day, I found myself in a lively conversation with three colleagues, two men and one woman. The topic? Relationships. More specifically, how do you know if you’re in a good one, and how do you keep it that way?

Simple question. Complicated answers.

What we circled back to, after a few laughs and a couple of “you’ve got to be kidding me” moments, was this: you have to be honest with yourself first.

Not just a little honest. Really honest.

What do you actually need, emotionally, physically, intellectually? Not what sounds good. Not what you think you should want. What do you truly need at this stage of your life?

That kind of self-reflection isn’t easy. It takes time. It takes a willingness to look in the mirror without flinching.

But once you get there, something shifts.

You can speak clearly. You can say to a partner, using that simple but powerful “I language,” this is what matters to me. And here’s the hard part: sometimes the person across from you can’t meet those needs.

That’s where things get real.

It’s easy to say, “move on.” It’s much harder to do, especially after years or decades of shared life. But if happiness is still the goal (and why wouldn’t it be?), then sometimes difficult decisions are part of the journey.

Now, when the conversation was getting thoughtful, one of the women dropped a line that stopped us all cold and then made us laugh.

She said, “Men your age are looking for a nurse… or a purse.”

Now, she’s a Boomer herself, widowed, with a wide circle of single friends. And she wasn’t joking, well, maybe a little, but not entirely.

Her view? Many older men are either looking for someone to take care of them… or someone who can afford to spend money on them.

I pushed back at first. It sounded a bit cynical.

But then I started asking around.

And wouldn’t you know it, there was some truth there.

Not for everyone, of course, but enough to make me pause.

Some men were clearly looking for comfort and care. Others were looking for financial stability. And a few, thankfully, were still looking for connection, companionship, and yes, even a bit of romance.

No wonder relationships can get complicated at this stage of life.

We carry history. Expectations. Habits that are well-worn and not easily changed.

And yet, the desire for connection doesn’t fade. If anything, it becomes clearer, more honest, maybe even a little less patient with nonsense.

Which brings me back to The Beatles.

I was lucky enough to see them live when they came to Vancouver in the 60s. The music, the energy, it stays with you. And even now, those songs still find their way into the present.

That’s what we do as Boomers.

We hold onto the memories, but we also keep them alive. We reinterpret them. We bring them forward into who we are today.

Turning 80 isn’t about winding down.

It’s about knowing more clearly what matters… and what doesn’t.

So, here’s the real question, not for the pundits, but for us:

At 80, are we still choosing relationships that bring life, laughter, and meaning into our days?

Or are we settling for something less?

Because whether you’re 64… or 80… the song remains the same.

Will you still need me?
Will you still feed me?

Maybe.

But more importantly, will you still know yourself well enough to choose wisely?