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The Garden Wars

“Why couldn't you have done this whilst we were together?” my ex asked as he surveyed my newly planted patio garden. He was at my house to pick up our son, but my lack of interest in sharing the gardening was something he often lamented when we were together.
“I don't know,” was my feeble reply. I didn't want to get into the truth. The truth hurts, and leads to arguments. Whilst my ex would always deny he was a control freak, he was. The garden (and the allotment for that matter) were his domain. He'd spend hours perusing online shopping sites, looking for potato buckets and the right variety of seeds. He was also quite excited about the fact how easy it is to find cheap furniture (especially for the garden) online.
My method is much more haphazard. I went to the garden centre, bought some herbs I knew I used, brought some plants I liked, and stuck them in pretty pots. It is an aesthetic garden as much as it is a practical one. He had no interest in anything that couldn't be eaten or utilised in some way. Whilst I can see his argument, I want a garden I can both use, and has lovely flowers.
I have, in fact, got quite obsessional about my garden. I've only started recently, having only moved a few months ago, and maintaining for some time that I needed to get the house sorted before I could possibly think about the garden. However, with the good weather, came the desire to sit outside in a pleasant environment.
I'm also growing seeds on my window sill. The seeds I'm growing are practical, although I forgot to label them, so it's pick and mix really. They've all germinated, but I won't know what they are until they start developing. I quite like the lucky dip approach. Likewise, I managed to throw half the labels away from the flowers I bought, and I am now waiting for my mother to visit so she can tell me what I am cultivating.
My ex is much too precise for this style of gardening. I know it would have driven him mad if I had rows of seeds on our window sill and didn't know what any of them are. My attitude of I'll know when they grow, and I've only planted herbs I use and I'll recognise would not wash with him. He'd want to know what variety and stock the seeds came from, where I am simply happy with the magical process of putting a small fleck into the soil and it turning into a shoot. I'd be amazed if I get to the point where I can eat anything from my garden. Whilst this is the aim, I am simply happy growing.
But maybe the truth of the matter is, in my own way, I am also a control freak. I am enjoying having a garden which is my garden, where I don't have to consult anyone, and where I can be left to enjoy my haphazard methods in peace.