Date a boy who gardens. Date a boy who spends his money on plants of all kinds instead of fancy cars and expensive watches. Date a boy who knows exactly how much water a bromeliad or a pot of rosemary needs, what plant will thrive in a spot that gets afternoon shade, and which ones glory in the full sun.
Date a boy whose garden is perfect for quiet meditation, a place where you can stare out into space for hours, or somewhere you can sit hand-in-hand, talking about nothing in particular.
This boy knows about patience. He knows that it takes time for plants to mature. He selects plans when they are young, so they can establish themselves in the environment, and gives them the years they need to grow.
He knows how to nurture living things. He fertilizes. He waters. He weeds. He prunes. He controls what he can of the environment so his plants can be at their best.
He also knows that there are things beyond his control. When a storm snaps off tree tops and flattens shrubs, when floodwater overruns ponds and entangles hedges with garbage and debris, he mourns the loving care destroyed in minutes. Afterwards, he clears the damage and starts imagining the garden's next, new look. This boy knows how to accept and recover from loss.
He recognizes beauty in its many forms. The sweeping grace of a palm tree. The densely-packed leaves of a ficus. The elegance of a vanda. From the precision topiaries of formal British gardens to alaga-ng-Diyos hills and mountainsides--his appreciation is unreserved.
And when the day comes that he sees the beauty in you, marry him.
