I'm not crazy

 We're having some landscaping done (perfect timing too because we want to soften the view between us and the behemoth house about to be built next to us).

A few days ago, we met with the landscaper.  We walked around the yard and talked about what we wanted.

I was happy about it all.  Yes, yes and yes.  Rip it out, replace it, improve it.

Until we got to the front yard.

I have an ever growing mound of volunteer marigolds.  It gets bigger every year to my utter delight.  I love marigolds.  I love that they come back every year all on their own.

I said, "Don't do anything in this flower bed."

"Not even bark?"

"No."  

I don't want to mess with a good thing, plus I'm allergic to the bark and it gives me hives on my arms when I weed and that's the flower bed I mostly dig about (because it's my favorite).

He looked at me like maybe I was a little crazy.

Then I said, "And don't pull this out."  I indicated the anemic single thorny stick with zero leaves that I'm hoping will become a yellow rose bush.  Olivia gave it to me and it's originally from my grandparents' house.  I want a yellow rose bush!  If my hopes and dreams can make it happen, it will be something of a miracle.  The thing looks kind of dead.

"Don't pull it out," I reiterated.

And I'm not crazy.

Although I did consider creating a sign to post next to it.

Maybe I'm a little crazy.