The Perils of Gawking at Plants

ANYONE THAT KNOWS ME is aware of my penchant for plants. I call myself a die-hard gardener evidenced by my many weekends spent puttering in the garden from sun up to sun down. When I'm not in the garden, I'm still thinking about plants, gazing out the window as I drive to and from work, musing about how to better design my borders.  

In August, a farmer planted several rows of artichoke plants in a field next to the road on a stretch of my commute. If you've never seen an artichoke plant, they're quite stunning with silvery-white, pointy leaves and a tall, central leader that eventually supports a lavender flower. My first thought after witnessing row upon row of small artichoke plants was, "interesting." My second was, "those plants are spaced awfully close together" as I drove past them. 

Daily, I've been taking in brief snippets of progress, glancing ever so quickly to my right while making my way towards the signal light ahead. This particular area is notorious for sudden stops. 

One evening last week, driving home, I did the quick scan, noting how healthy and how strangely un-crowded those plants were growing. Aware of the curse of sudden stops, I kept my distance from the car in front of me. Glancing over again at the 'chokes, then back at the green light ahead, I judged that another quick glance would be okay since things were moving right along. 

NOT. Despite the fact that the light was green, the car in front of me had braked suddenly and me, at say 30 mph, was forging straight ahead. 

I hit the brakes and veered towards the right, hoping I wouldn't smash the SUV in front of me but certain that I was going to anyway. BAM! 

I quickly pulled over and mortified, grabbed my insurance stuff and ignored the smug (I'm sure) glances of passing cars. The damage to Steve's SUV--a very nice gentleman, I might add--was minimal, just a two-inch ouch on the very end of his black, rubber bumper. He didn't even want my insurance information, confident that with a little manipulation the sore would heal. 

Steve called me yesterday to assure me that the wound had healed. My car, on the other hand will require a bit of surgery, I'm afraid. The headlight shell broke and there's a minor dent in the hood right above it. I'm thinking it will run me about five or ten thousand, given how expensive things are.  

You can choose your moral to this story. There's a lot of them. But stubborn ole gal that I am, my love of plants hasn't diminished in the slightest. 

Can you relate?