WHAT YOUR GARDEN IS REALLY TALKING ABOUT…


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(I know this little story is all kinds of a mess grammatically speaking, along with all kinds of other improper treatment of the english language…but you know me…when the mood strikes, watch out…I’ll write anything. Apologizing in advance…)

I WAS QUITE PLEASED WITH MY JOB IN MY NEW GARDEN HOME, THE GARDENER CALLED ME IMPORTANT, BUT HER VOICE HELD A “TONE”.

SETTLED IN, I DISCOVERED A POT WITH A SQUIRREL CLINGING TO IT…I DECIDED TO ASK IF THE POT EVEN KNEW IT.

“HEY-HO LITTLE CLAY, WHO’S THE FRIEND ON YOUR HEAD?”

“A COMPLETE STRANGER TO ME,” THE LITTLE POT SAID.

“DO YOU CARE THAT IT’S FEET MIGHT BE DIRTY AND YUCKY?” 

“NOT A BIT,” SAID THE POT. “I COUNT MYSELF LUCKY.”

“I DON’T UNDERSTAND,” I QUESTIONED AGAIN. “YOU NEVER KNOW WHERE THOSE FEET MIGHT HAVE BEEN.”

“SQUIRREL FEET ARE NOTHING COMPARED TO A FLOWER…WITH THEM COME DEMANDS, AT LEAST ONE AN HOUR.”

THE POT WASN’T FINISHED, IT WAS JUST GETTING STARTED…THE CHAT I’D ENJOYED WAS NO LONGER LIGHT-HEARTED.

“A FLOWER COMPLAINS, ‘I’M TOO DRY, I’M TOO WET…WHY HASN’T SOMEONE THROWN MULCH ON ME YET? TO TOP IT ALL OFF, IT GROWS ROOTS THAT ARE FICKLE AND AFTER A WHILE THOSE ROOTS START TO TICKLE.

STILL…I’D STILL RATHER BE ME, I’M SO GLAD I’M NOT YOU,” THE POT SAID WITH CONVICTION THAT REALLY RANG TRUE.

“I’M OFFENDED!” I CHALLENGED. THE POT JUST LOOKED WISER.

“YOU DO KNOW OF COURSE, THAT YOU’RE FERTILIZER?

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