Willy-nilliness will absolutely not be tolerated in the Eden of Garden. And this is a source of many a tense moment between the Boss and me.

He is a carpenter and a builder with the mind of an engineer and is, therefore, so detail-oriented some might call him anal. (But I would never do that!) He approaches gardening like a carpenter. He gardens with a tape measure. I am not kidding.

I see precision planting as a burden, he sees it as a challenge and a task that he enjoys. I, on the other hand, come from a more creative profession and precision gardening doesn’t come naturally to me.

I still become perplexed when he refers to a measurement in fractions. For example, “There is 1,600th of an inch of rain in the gauge.” To me that sounds like a drop of rain, but the boss tells me that’s something like 2/10 of an inch. F-ing fractions. I seriously glaze over when he tells me to plant 5/8 of the seed in the container. And I cannot cut a straight line even if you give me a dotted line. Watching me slice bread is like fingernails on a chalk board to him.

My inability to be precise isn’t anything personal against the Boss. I can’t just eyeball a measurement and be expected to be exact. That isn’t willy nilly, that is normal person planting, which is why we have the corn stick, a devise the Boss created for more precise corn planting. And if I don’t use it properly he just might beat me with it. (Just kidding! he’s a gardener, not a fighter.)

One of the best gifts he ever received was a garlic planting dibbler from his nephew, another compulsive Rissman gardener. The multi-dibbler allows for the layout of a perfect grid for planting garlic, onions and anything else that needs to be spaced 8 inches apart and 2 inches deep.

He did ban me from planing corn this year, even with the help of the corn stick, because he claimed I wasn’t precise enough last year and preciseness is essential to crop yield. “Just ask the local farmers,” he insists. I gladly gave up the task.

Marigold planting brought me as close to quitting this whole gardening partnership as we will ever get. I will never, ever plant marigolds with him again. He practically snaps a chalk line when he plants the marigolds in both ends of each of the garden beds. He would expect me to use a level to insure I get the stems completely straight. This causes extreme eye rolling on my part and a raised voice on his part. It is a task we can absolutely not do together.

He has assigned me my own space for being willy-nilly and that is a place where I am safe from comment on the spacing between the zinnias. It’s not like I’m planting lettuce in the shape of a peace sign or seeding spinach in a spiral.  That would be another level of willy-nilly.

I understand that willy-nilly stresses him out. Took me many, many, many years to finally figure it out. I find his preciseness annoying and unnecessary and sometimes tongue biting and teeth grinding and eye rolling. I truly want him to be happy, so I try to be the precision planter he wants me to be.

We will all benefit if I can leave my willy-nilly tendencies outside the garden fence. I have much to gain from a happy hubby who can gaze in contentment at the beauty of his perfectly-straight garden beds.