Not the kind that hold dead people – this was a real conversation when I told someone I loved urns – my friend thought I had some kind of weird infatuation with the canister that holds our loved ones remains. I don’t. But I do love the kind of urns that sit on your front porch, or inside your house, and boast beautiful plants and flowers. Some people call them planters, but I prefer, urns.
Because when you own a house, you should own a few urns, I was on the hunt. I had actually been on this hunt for a while but was slightly disgusted by the price tag of such urns.
One day, on a hunt for something else, I stopped by Michaels. Low and behold, there on the side walk were two somewhat hideous greenish gold urns on a deep discount. Like, they were priced at $70 a piece, and then had a 60% off discount, and then an extra 40% off plus tax. That should make them about $18 a piece. What a steal!
Greenish gold urns were not what I was looking for – however, I happily walked away – or if you saw me at Michaels, you might say lugging - my urns to my car knowing I had extra black spray paint in my garage.
I called Zach to let him know I had another great project for us to work on so be ready when I get home! I jumped out of the car and went to town with black spray paint. I have a special place in my heart for spray paint – it’s just so easy.
This is where the saga of my urns begins.
First, my yard savvy husband warned me about painting the grass. I didn’t think I would. I did.
Not a big deal, right? Grass grows. (I actually thought about grabbing green spray paint to spray over the black – no one would ever know!)
Also, because I bought deeply discounted slightly ornate urns from a craft store, my urns were not equipped with the essentials for outdoor living. From reading this post on Young House Love, I knew that my urns needed good drainage. Yet, mine were without holes in the base. Another easy fix!
Zach offered to drill holes in the bottom of the urns and even snagged some gravel for me. We were set.
As Zach was drilling in the holes, I kept reminding him that if he drilled too close to the decorative edge, I feared the urn would break. After all, they were super cheap and likely not made for strenuous circumstances.
Zach said it wouldn’t happen. It did.
The drilling occurred a little too close to the decorative part and chipped the urn. I didn’t take a picture of this part seeing as how I was running around the house trying to find glue that would mend my broken urn. I figured Gorilla Glue would be perfect for the job.
While Zach started working on the second urn, I threw some gravel in the first urn, filled it with soil, placed the flowers, and packed in a little more soil. I was slightly impatient so I didn’t wait for the glue to dry before I started watering. The chipped off piece kept sliding around and wouldn’t stay where it was supposed to.
I may have, for the first time in my whole life, been a little impatient. Everyone can have one of those days, right?
Quietly in the background, I hear Zach laughing. The laughter got a little louder and then louder until I realized it was deliberately louder so I would hear. Through my huffing and puffing, I finally just had to ask what was going on.
Well everyone, apparently my urns WERE intended to be used exactly for the purpose I bought them as – at the very bottom of each urn, there was a hole plugged by a rubber stopper. All Zach had to do was pop that plug out and there was the most perfect drainage a girl could ask for.
There were holes in the pot all along. I thought I was being so DIY savvy.
In my defense, the second urn did not get the added holes and I prefer having a few little pee spouts around the base so I can see when I’ve watered enough.
Thank you. That’s all.