You go to Costco and buy one thing – Sluggo in bulk – and ask for 8 large cardboard boxes to take it home in so you can smother more lawn.
You frequent a horse stable even though you have no interest in riding horses.
You have a ridiculous multi-component compost hierarchy to handle kitchen scraps and you assume this is normal:
“The old oatmeal can go to the chickens, but not the orange rinds; they go to the worms, and the cabbage core goes to the worms too, and so does this pizza box I brought home from the work party, but it goes on top of the worm bedding to keep fruit flies down, not buried down in the bedding. The fish bones and the young coconut husk we can put in the pit compost trench I just dug, and the drier lint and old rags can go to the outside compost bin. Oh, but make sure to separate the coffee grounds, I need them for the blueberries. And the egg shells – those I keep under the sink until I bake them to feed back to the chickens. What do you mean you put the egg shells and the coffee grounds in yard waste already? What the hell? Why is this so hard to understand!?“
You’ve gardened with a head-lamp.
You’ve thought massive jet-lag that leaves you wide awake at 3 am gives you a nice opportunity to be out in the garden before anyone can bug you.
You stop into the the local bakery and teriyaki place weekly just to see if they have any old 5 gallon buckets they might give you.
You’ve ever taken a vacation to a garden or farm.
You “rescue” compostables (coffee grounds, paper plates from picnics, leftovers from a friend’s kid’s birthday party) with mildly inappropriate frequency and a complete lack of discretion. But hey, it’s not like you dumpster dive…yet.
When you see free scrap wood by the side of the road, you actually stop and pick it up. It’s a potato tower in the making!
You know exactly how many bales of hay the trunk of a Honda Accord can hold (one).
You are on first name basis with the guy who runs the tree removal and stump grinding service even though you’ve never had a tree removed because he drops 10 cubic yards of wood chips in your driveway twice a year.
You have passionate conversations about the relative merits of different overwintering cauliflowers.
You will freely and generously give plant divisions, starts, transplants and seeds to other gardeners, but you are shockingly miserly about your soil, shaking off any excess from plant roots and recapturing any dirt you rinse off in the garden in a five-gallon bucket. Hey, you’ve put years into that soil.
You have more fruit trees in your postage stamp yard than the rest of your neighborhood combined.
You regularly spend more on seeds in a given month than you do on produce.
Your idea of a very romantic anniversary present is a drip irrigation system for the raised beds.
You have empty canning jars under your bed to put by the bounty. And in the laundry room, and tucked behind the tv, and above the washing machine…
You lust over exotic edibles you know you simply must grow – like goji berry and and medlars and paw paws – even though you’ve never purchased, used, or eaten any of these edibles and you have no idea if you’d even like them.
You frequently wonder if you could guerrilla garden the park where no kids ever seem to play and turn it into the neighborhood giant pumpkin patch.
You are incapable of committing to anything in August because your garden will need you.
You have “good” garden shoes and “working” garden shoes. And both are covered in shit.
You’ve subjected guests to photo tours of germinating seeds.
You use terms like umbelliferous and cruciferous to describe things that aren’t vegetables. As in:
“Oh, in Seattle everyone has Gore-Tex, so nobody really uses that umbelliferous rain shieldy thing.”
“Um, you mean like an umbrella?”
“Yeah, right…isn’t that what I said?”
You pee in your garden (for the nitrogen, of course!).
You cook meals and describe every course as follows: “This is ______. I grew it!”
Weekends are your time to “go to work” in the garden.
You frequently resent the non-edible plants in your garden and think things like, “A hedgerow of blueberries would work better in that space than those dwarf rhododendrons, anyway!”
The phrase “shade tolerant edible” makes you gasp in delight.
When friends ask you to go get a manicure with them, you just laugh and laugh and laugh.