Funny wedding vows for a partner at a garden ceremony

I promise to love you even when you insist on calling our vegetable patch 'the farm,' despite the fact that we grew exactly three tomatoes and a very angry zucchini that I'm pretty sure was plotting against us.

I vow to always let you be the one who talks to plants, because apparently my energy is 'too skeptical' and I'm 'killing the basil with my aura.' I will stand back and let you work your weird magic.

I promise to never again suggest that we 'just wing it' with landscaping, and to always consult you before purchasing anything that might attract bees, butterflies, or—as we learned—an entire family of possums.

I vow to spend forever with you in whatever garden we tend next, whether it flourishes or becomes another crime scene of wilted herbs. As long as you're there covered in dirt and smiling, I'm home.

I promise to love you like perennials—coming back stronger every year, even after the hard winters. Though hopefully with fewer aphids than our roses had.

I promise to love you even though you gave up on our garden after exactly one week and declared yourself 'more of an indoor plant person,' which we both know is also a lie based on the succulent graveyard on your desk.

I vow to forgive you for the Great Mulch Incident, when you ordered 'a little bit' and we received enough to build a small mountain. I will only bring it up occasionally, perhaps once per season, for the rest of our lives.

I promise to always appreciate your enthusiasm, even when it leads to projects like 'let's build our own water feature' that ended with a flooded patio and you wielding a wrench like you were defusing a bomb.

I vow to grow alongside you through all seasons, tending to our life together with patience, humor, and significantly more realistic expectations than we had about those tomatoes.

I promise to love you like wildflowers—a little chaotic, impossible to control, but absolutely perfect in their natural habitat. Which, for you, is anywhere I am.