I don't do the G word - Gardening. I have always worked full time and, especially when the children were little, hubby and I developed a split of duties - I did the house, finances and kids, hubby did the cars, garden and kids and everything else was shared according to who was doing what hours at work or taxi duty for various child activities. Of course now that they are both in their 20s things are very different. Except for the gardening.
Now, don't get me wrong, I love our garden. The best bit being when I'm reclining on something soft with a little something else chinking gently with ice in one hand and a good book in the other, preferably in the shade. The closest I get to gardening is when I point out the odd weed he's missed. Lucky weed, because those of you that have seen our garden, know that nothing is allowed to grow taller than hubby and his idea of pruning involves an electric hedge trimmer. I jest not when I say we have square conifers with flat tops and, when I manage to find my camera from the somewhere safe I put it during a recent flurry of housework, I will post photographic evidence. [Edited to add - found it!]
Because of this, dear hubby has refused in recent years to let me have a greenhouse on the grounds that I won't have any time for it because of everything else I do and he will end up doing that as well as the rest of the garden. With large hands and fingers like bananas, the closest he gets to seedlings are the plug plants we buy from the local wherever. But, not this year. This year, in a fit of pique, I spotted a 14 squid plastic greenhouse, bought it, got son to assemble it and had seeds planted before hubby got home. HA! Not only that, I, again aided and abetted by son because the canes were 7 feet tall and I'm only short, created a potted cane wigwam ready for the runner beans when they sprouted. DOUBLE HA! He may have the green fingers, but I have the green house. It must be the nurturer in me because I have cooed and watered and poked and transplanted with loving optimism the odd bean that was attempting to sprout (despite me having nearly fried them under the plastic during the mini heatwave). Then the weather changed and they are now shivering in the pot at the base of the wigwam and not looking at all hopeful.
Perhaps it's just as well I'm the only one that actually likes green beans, which is a shame too really, because I'd planted a yellow variety just for the sheer hell of it.