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CP: Mowing’s not bad. It’s above the dirt, not in it. I love my electric mower, and cutting the yard on the bias. Seems to impress the neighbors.
RN: Only a gay man could talk about cutting the grass in the same manner that the great French couturier Elsa Schiaparelli cut a dress. Thanks for that.
CP: If only I could write a poem as well-made and beautiful as some of the gardens created by my friend Tom. When I picture him, he’s mud-caked, sunhatted and with a trowel in one hand, backed by a weedless hillside covered in blooms and variegated foliage.
RN: My Auntie Sue is both an avid gardener — you should see the woman’s daffodils — and a child of the 1970s, so when she first used the phrase dead head in my presence, I assumed she was referring to Jerry Garcia’s fans.
CP: Your aunt may get the Daffodil Queen crown, but my Dutch stepmom, Annette, is unrivaled when it comes to tulips. Can we agree that — no thanks to us — gardeners make the world a better place?
RN: Absolutely. In gratitude, I propose a national Take a Gardener to Lunch Day.
CP: At a place with real flowers on each table.
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