The world of Barry Fugatt’s gardens
An old friend, who only gardens when his green-thumbed wife asks for her help, told a funny story over lunch.
Looks like the boss sent him on Saturday to buy a tree from a local nursery with instructions for choosing a beautiful maple, one with fiery red foliage. Arrived at the nursery, he asks the first employee he meets if he sells maple trees.
– Of course, answered the young man. âWe have red maples, sugar maples, silver maples, Amur maples, Shantung maples and Japanese maples. Which one do you prefer ? “
My friend was stunned by the many choices. Remember, he’s a dedicated brown-haired thumb who prefers to spend his fall weeks watching sports and grilling knockwurst. He wouldn’t recognize a maple from a kumquat.
Completely intimidated, he finally mumbled, “Red Maple, I guess.”
“What red maple? Continued the nurseryman. “We have the glory of October, the red sunset, the fall flame, the fall glory and red maple seedlings.”
âEgad! My friend sighed. âI felt like an idiot. Who would have thought that buying a maple tree could be so confusing? “
Barely able to hide my joy at my friend’s misery, I asked, âSo what maple did you buy?
“I didn’t buy anything,” he replied. “I went home and told Madame Gardener that they had no more maples.”