Oddments

In search of story

July 14.22: Coping, but barely

23 Comments

Does a garden laugh?

Yes. That’s what I think.

What could else explain

this impertinence of pink?

No sooner had I written of

snapdragons’ ruffled white

than this haughty pale bubblegum

erupted into sight.

Did I plant this nonconformist,

this blushing heliophile?

No. It planted its own self,

chuckling all the while.

Its merriment unbridled

in my gardener’s flabbergast,

it reveled in its message:

it’s the garden that laughs last.

 

 

23 thoughts on “July 14.22: Coping, but barely

  1. Oh, yes, the plants have the last laugh. There are some I tend diligently to no avail, and others I move around and they perform beautifully. Now, if I could remember which was which I could learn from the experience, but that’s not going to happen at my age. 🙂 Happy Thursday!

    • Thanks for the chuckle! Sometimes I think about how I should keep a gardener’s journal so I can remember what I did when, but, aside from the absurdity of such a thought, there’s the probability that I’d spend too much time looking for the journal. I can certainly imagine the plants laughing as we stand there scratching our heads, trying to figure out what we did right. Or, in this case, trying to figure out where something came from. Happy Thursday to you too, Judy!

  2. This was a great way to start my morning. I’m laughing with your garden. Between the random seeds, stuff we threw out last year, and stuff moved by the squirrels, we have lots of “how did that get here?” moments. They are all welcome sights. Even better now that I think they might be laughing.

    • Thanks, Dan! Yes, they laugh. Also I think the squirrels, birds, and chipmunks laugh. They’re hidden somewhere in a tree or under a bush, but they’re watching us, and THEY know where the seeds came from and they love to watch our consternations. Come to think of it, they probably have their own smartphones and send photos of us to each other with no end of goofy emojis.

      • I’m certain the squirrels used to call Maddie – “bring those people with the peanuts outside.” Almost the day after she died, the squirrel population in our yard dropped.

      • No! That is too weird. But it sure makes you wonder what was going on between her and the squirrels.

  3. A garden that laughs. What could be better? Just look at that pink snapdragon standing tall and proud over all the others. How did she get there? That’s for her to know and you to wonder Maureen!

    Isn’t it much more fun wondering how that flower got there than wondering how that invasive weed got into your garden….you know, that weed that thrives on air alone!

    Happy Thursday Maureen.
    Ginger

    • You are so right! Much better to wonder about the pink snapdragon than the weed which thrives on air. I do admire the snapdragon even though I have no idea where it came from. The weeds, not so much. A happy Thursday to you too, Ginger!

  4. Maureen, I hardly ever leave comments, but I can’t begin to tell you how important your Oddments/Coping posts mean to me. I’ve followed all your darker days and experiences, and yet, once again, you’ve given the world a gift of humor and your terrific use of language. Your bubble gum intruder and the aforementioned have made my day. You are truly a master. Thank you!

    • Shirah! It’s so good to hear from you! Thank you for your kind words and for leaving your card, as it were. I think of you often with hopes you are doing well; I certainly miss our writers’ group from so long ago.

  5. Like a new girl in school, just trying to blend in. But pale bubblegum is a pretty one. I hope she brings some friends so they can have a mixer, as it were…

    • Oh, good one! I too hope for a mixer and I’m keeping an eye on those seed pods. When they look ready, I’m glomming onto those seeds! I love the new girl in school comparison. As I was writing this, I was also thinking about the “Lonely Little Petunia in the Onion Patch,” who, of course, was much sadder than this snapdragon, but also was like that new girl. I hate that song because once I think of it I can’t get it out of my head. I hope you don’t know it or you’ll be plagued by it too.

  6. I had a big smile on my face when I saw your post today: a garden with a sense of humor… (reflects the gardener’s own!)
    I sometimes wonder who moves plant around in my garden when I’m not looking 😀
    (I can imagine some folks would pull out that rogue interloper; I’d just keep grinning when I see it).

    • Apparently a lot of us have gardens that do strange things when we’re not looking. Then they laugh. As for pulling out that “rogue interloper,” no way! I want those seeds!

      • I never collected and sowed snap dragon seed… have you been successful doing it? I collected Lupine seeds on my walk the other day to try next spring (for the first time).

  7. Yes, I have been successful — that’s how I got all the white snapdragons! The lupine crop just might be stunning. It’s worth a try!

  8. The pink snapdragon ‘that planted its own self’ (that made me smile) seems to be a performer. The little white ones are very neat, but that bubble gum one is a natural disruptor. i can see it leading them astray if things carry on.

    • Natural disruptor indeed. I am keeping an eye on this one. I want those seeds! Otherwise it will be planting its own self all over the place and having a jolly good time doing so. It probably knows I think it’s beautiful even if impertinent.

  9. Plants are really connected with us more than we think, aren’t they? We bought a house with a beautiful garden but after the lady who created that garden passed away, many of her prize plants went with her. I tried but just couldn’t take her place.

  10. Pingback: Foxgloves That Planted Their Own Selves – Susan Rushton

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