I’ve never claimed to be terribly good at keeping plants alive. To be very honest, I’m terribly good at killing them.
Over the past few years I’ve managed to increase the age-expectancy of any brave greenery that finds it’s way into my hands, though I wouldn’t go so far as to say they’re entirely safe with me just yet.
Ok, they’re not at all safe with me. I’m working on it.
It seems Scott (my dear OCD neighbor) has taken it upon himself to help me in this dire matter, an endeavor I do not envy him for in the slightest. It is not uncommon for me to find small, very symmetrical notes posted upon my front door, filled with helpful instructions on how to keep my Bougainvillea climbing up the post, warnings that I better water my sweet poppies lest they soon be dead poppies, and how I must eradicate the caterpillars eating the ground clover on my back porch.
And yes, how does he know this is even happening? I ask myself the same question.
So this morning as I step outside to leave for work, I happen to notice one of the plants from my garden has vanished.
In it’s place sits a lovely little red fern-looking thing (I won’t even pretend to know what it’s called because I don’t have a clue) which now seems to have made itself quite at home in front of my door.
I stare at it for a few moments wondering if I’m going batty or if, perhaps, the former plant has somehow morphed overnight.
Kneeling down to look more closely, I squint at it long and hard. Long enough for a kind passerby to ask if I’m alright, informing me that a watched plant is about as likely to grow as a watched pot is to boil.
I am amused, but too fascinated and confused by my plant-abduction situation to become altogether distracted….. this is definitely a different plant.
Something tells me Scott has something to do with this. I knock on his door, still staring circumspectly at the strange red plant in my garden. The door opens.
“Um, did you kidnap my plant and replace it with a different one?”
“Oh yes, so I did! I’m so glad you’re pleased. Don’t you worry about your other one dear, I took it to my nursery for the remainder of the year, it won’t bloom again until spring anyway, so I’ll bring her back to you when she’s ready. I left you this other one to take care of for a while.”
“Ah…well, ah, thanks……much appreciated.”
Sometimes I wonder if Scott is a strange sort of kind-hearted gnome. It’s not entirely out of the realm of possibility.