She loves to putter in her garden, but she isn’t very good at it, especially since she’s often too drunk to practice. But occasionally, still flush with the fervor of her last drink, she sees a picture of a beautiful flower in one of her magazines, and thinks, Oh, how darling. That would look lovely in my garden.
So she goes out and buys a packet of seeds. At first, she follows the instructions very carefully. She prepares a fertile spot for the new addition, and then seed by seed, places them in the ground at just the right depth with just the right spacing. And then she doesn’t. Because, you see, she also has a very short attention span, and she’s out of interest before she’s out of seeds. She tosses the last handful of seeds willy-nilly at the turned earth, and she’s on to the next thing.
The next thing might be a pitcher of martinis, or it might be the strawberry seedlings she got from Jackson & Perkins, seduced by the colorfully illustrated and strawberry-scented sales pitch she received in the mail.
And so it goes.
Because flowers and plants are eager to please, they forgive their sloppy beginnings. They bloom and grow and are swept the mob scene of color and scent that crowds her yard. Pushing and shoving, they riot for her attention. And when she’s sober and remembers, she gives it, taking up her battered old watering can and raining love down upon them before she’s on to the next thing.
Written for Magpie Tales.