"If the world were merely seductive, that would be easy. If it were merely challenging, that would be no problem. But I arise in the morning torn between a desire to improve the world and a desire to enjoy the world. This makes it hard to plan the day." — E.B. White

Wednesday, April 26, 2017

Why did my plant die? a FuN poem by J. Charlesworth


Yay, it's SpRiNg glorious (wet) SpRiNg!!!


This was my Grandmothers darling book titled The Peter-Pan Twins stay at home

I'm already picking out my summer flowers, weeding n planting up pots! This silly poem has been in my garden shed for years so I thought I'd share it.

Why did my plant die
 by Jeffrey B Charlesworth

You walked to close. You tried on it. You dropped a piece of sod on it. You hoed it down. You weeded it.
You planted it the wrong way up. You grew it in a yogurt cup. But you forgot to make a hole. The soggy compost took it's toll.
September storm. November drought. It heaved in March, but the roots popped out.
You watered it with herbicide. You scattered bonemeal far and wide. Attracted local omnivores, who ate your plant and stayed for more.
You left it baking in the sun, while you departed on the run, to find a spade. Perhaps a trowel. Meanwhile the plant threw in the towel.
You planted it with crown too high. The soil washed off, that explains why. Too high pH. It hated line. Alas, it needs a gentler clime.
You left the root ball wrapped in plastic. You broke the roots. They're not elastic.
You splashed the plant with motor oil. You should do something to your soil. To Rich. To poor. Such wretched til.
Your soil is Clay. Your soil is filthy.
Your plant was eaten by a slug. The growing point contained a bug. These aphids are controlled by ants. Who milk the juice, it kills the plants.
In early spring, your gardens mud. You walked around! That's not much good.
With heat and light you hurried it. You worried it. You buried it.
The poor plant missed the mountain air. No heat, no summer bugs up there.
You overfed it 1010 10. Forgot to water it again.
You hit it sharply with the hose. You use a can without a rose.
Perhaps you sprinkled from above. You should have talked to it with love.
The nursery mailed it without roots. You killed it with those gardening boots.
You walked to close. You tried on it. You dropped a piece of sod on it.



Are your fingernails dirty friends?

2 comments:

Daniela said...

Your post is truly nice and while I'm thanking you for the lovely comment you left on ~ My little old world ~ I'm joining your followers with joy !

Wishing you the best of weeks

XOXO Daniela

Stone Cottage Adventures said...

Aaawww.... What a great poem! Thank you for sharing this charmer at You're the Star Blog Hop! -Marci @ Stone Cottage Adventures