Funny wedding vows for a partner at a garden ceremony

I promise to love you even when you insist that talking to plants makes them grow better, and to never mention the time you serenaded a tomato for twenty minutes while I stood there holding the watering can.

I vow to forgive you for the Great Zucchini Incident of last summer, when we planted six seeds and ended up with enough zucchini to supply a small nation. I will eat zucchini bread. I will eat zucchini muffins. I will even eat that thing you called 'zucchini lasagna' with a straight face.

I promise to always be the one who removes the spiders from the shed, as long as you continue to be the one who pretends my screaming is 'calling you for help' and not 'running away in terror.'

I vow to grow alongside you, even when that means admitting you were right about composting. Our love will be like the mint we planted—impossible to contain, aggressively spreading, and occasionally taking over everything in its path.

Today, surrounded by flowers that are thriving because you remembered to water them and not me, I promise to be your partner in all seasons. I'll be the roots when you need grounding, even if I'm still not entirely sure which plants are weeds.

I promise to love you even though you killed every single herb we planted except the mint, which you somehow made immortal. I will never let you live down the fact that you 'forgot' rosemary needs water, but I will also never stop finding your plant obituaries hilarious.

I vow to remember that the Great Zucchini Incident was technically your idea, even though you've now rewritten history to blame me. I promise to keep planting vegetables with you anyway, and to act surprised every single year when we're once again buried in produce.

I promise to continue pretending I don't hear you screaming in the shed, and to arrive at a casual pace while you're standing on a chair pointing at a harmless garden spider. Your dignity is safe with me, which is to say, I'll only tell this story at every dinner party forever.

I vow to be patient when you forget to water things, to gently remind you that plants are not like your phone and can't be revived by plugging them in overnight. Our love will be like the garden we keep trying to grow—a beautiful mess that somehow works despite our combined lack of qualifications.

Today, in this garden that has survived us both, I promise to be your partner through every season. I'll be the sunshine when you need warmth, and I'll only occasionally mention that time you tried to 'prune' the hydrangea into what you called 'a fun new shape.'