There's probably a high-faluting latin word for gardenphobia but that will do.
A beautiful autumn day........in the garden.
Pray for the plants I've just put in. They were so safe in their pots until I came along.
Water crystals, hole digging, watering, back filling (gardeny term that) and I managed to drop both of them.
I think I broke their necks.
I gave up after that and sat in the sun and cleaned the brass goblets and sprayed them so I'll never have to do it again.
Now I have to hide them again.
Who wants to be reminded of their 21st birthday when they're rapidly approaching the umpty-first?
Besides the ex gave them to me. Why did I marry someone who gave me a present that I would have to clean until the day I died?