We were hoping the Pocket Hose wasn’t too good to be true. If we could get just one summer out of the “hose that grows” we’d be happy. Sadly, just two months into use, our Pocket Hose, that suggestively named garden hose, sprang a leak.
In the opening scenes of the 1981 film Mommie Dearest, Faye Dunaway as Joan Crawford goes through her morning routine. You see her plunging her face into a bowl of ice water and steaming herself in a hot shower. I thought of this scene yesterday as I was preparing green beans to freeze. With the blanching and the ice bath it felt like I was Joan Crawfording the beans!
“I don’t know,” I said to my friend Joan. “If you ask me, I think hostas are just weeds that we tolerate.”
I uttered those words earlier this spring. I had just dug up and moved what seemed like the one hundredth hosta that’s planted around the house. At that time, the hostas were these small, uninteresting plants that felt more like a burden than a joy.
“Oh, just you wait,” Joan replied. “You’re going to love them.”
Images: This American House
I tittered at the name splashed across the package. “Pocket Hose. The House That Grows.” My inner thirteen-year-old boy found the sexual innuendo absolutely hilarious. I snapped a photo and put it, along with a witty caption, on Instagram months ago. Beyond the seemingly obscene name, does the expanding Pocket Hose actually work? Now that we have a house with a lawn and garden, I decided to find out!