It’s a tradition that my Amish friend Ruth and I go to one of the local the Amish-owned greenhouses in May to get our spring annuals—we’ve done it probably half a dozen times now. Our favorite is Nature Lane Greenhouse, which has a new location this spring (more on Nature Lane another day). It is owned by a local Amishman named Miller who has many entrepreneurs in his family, and it’s a wonderful greenhouse. This year, my friends’ two youngest boys were old enough to handle the milking by themselves, so husband Glenn went with us.
Later Friday afternoon, we made a few other stops (business and pleasure) and then headed out to eat supper together. The subject of Mother’s Day came up as we drove. Glenn looked very surprised as he said, “What? Mother’s Day is this weekend?” Ruth (she and I sit in the back seat and talk while the men ride up front) looked at me with an expression that said, “Guess who forgot to get me something for Mother’s Day?” We could see that Glenn was in the doghouse.
The next morning (Saturday) I got an early phone call. We had mistakenly left a flat of Ruth’s “Wave Petunias” in the back of our Jeep after the greenhouse run the previous day, which gave Glenn the perfect chance to volunteer to walk to the phone shanty down the road and call us. He said, “Are you going to be near the greenhouse today? Remember that orange rose that Ruth admired there? I left some money in the workshop, clipped to my tape measure. We will be gone this morning. Could you take the money, get that rose for Ruth, and put it in the workshop? It would be nice to surprise her with it on Mother’s Day tomorrow.”
We were glad to help. I did remember the rose she admired, and Gary and I picked it up, brought it out to the farm, left it in the shed, and took the money. This is one Amishman who is going to be out of the doghouse on Mother’s Day after all.