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A birthday in the garden: What could be more perfect? It’s a peaceful thought for a baby boomer screeching through her 40s with smoke pluming from her heels.

In college, I made friends with a nice Canadian family. The mother in the family was in her mid-30s when she told me that all she wanted for her birthday was a washer and dryer.

I thought to myself, just shoot me if I get to the age where I actually want something useful for myself instead of jewelry. As far as I was concerned, there wasn’t much point in having birthdays if you couldn’t fantasize about growing up and getting fabulous jewelry from your adorably handsome husband.

Well, I’m now past the mid-30s stage and celebrating another birthday. And I’m sure you will find my birthday fantasy gift titillating. I’ve been asking for a big, retractable hose reel, either electric or spring-loaded tight enough to flick a fly off the fence post at 40 paces.

You might remember that I’ve had a nasty case of “gardener’s elbow,” and I’m thinking that this 21st-century reel would take the pain out of coiling or winding the hose up several times a day. I’ve seen the reels in catalogs but don’t know anyone who has one. So if you’ve tried one out, let me know if the reality surpasses the fantasy.

Last year I wanted a wheelbarrow for my birthday. My best friend across the street met that need when she found a True Temper contractors’ grade, 6-cubic-feet black beauty at a garage sale. I’ve become very good friends with that wheelbarrow, considering all the mulch I spread in my garden beds. So, yippee! Hold me back. Dreams really do come true.

Now back to the unfulfilled saga of the hose reel. My very glamorous flight attendant friend said she was going to get it for me but decided against it. She thought it would mean I’d have to do more work, and she thinks I work too hard. So, she got me an expensive day at the spa to pamper myself.

Now, what some people don’t realize about us gardeners is that we are obsessed. It’s difficult for us to go and sit in a mud bath at a spa without wondering if we forgot to turn off the soaker hose. As the herbal massage sinks in, my mind wanders around my garden, looking for a spot where my lavender will get more intense sun.

It’s not that I don’t appreciate such kindness. I do. I just don’t have time to relax. I’ve got a garden depending on me.

The moral to this story? You don’t get a gardener something you’d really like. Gardeners love plants, garden kitsch and tools. The more useful, the better. In younger years, we might have gotten giddy over the glint of gold — but today, tools just might be the most perfect accessory.