A memorable weekend deserves a memorable thought.
And I’ve thought of a thought to use on my blog that probably shouldn’t be written, but I’m about to post it anyway.
It’s like having a plant you know you shouldn’t plant in your garden for any number of reasons… invasive; not suited to your climate; no room for it… but you plant it anyway.
There may be regrets. But still… the temptation…
Here it is…
A gardener should branch out, see what takes root and forms a new shoot, because it may perhaps flower and bear fruit, which could contain the seed of an idea, that if allowed to germinate, might lead the gardener beyond their own little patch of dirt into a greater garden where more ideas can be sown, which, once sprouted, could become a vine that if followed to its end, might lead to more riches than a compost bin bears in the fall.
Can you fit more “garden-y’ words into a sentence like that? I challenge you to come up with your own atrocious garden-y thought.
(Hey, it’s winter, what else is a gardener to do?)
*
It’s been a fun weekend, starting with reading about Garden Bloggers’ Bloom Day in The Austin Statesman. Many thanks to Renee Studebaker for “putting us in the paper” and spreading the word.
Then Elizabeth “forced” me to submit me to even more questions about bloom day for a post on Garden Rant. I loved all the comments, especially the one that recognized my “eccentric brilliance”.
Seriously, thank you to all who left many compliments and kind thoughts in the comments on Garden Rant, and thank you to both Renee and Elizabeth for the articles/posts.
Does anyone need me to remind them that Garden Bloggers’ Bloom Day is coming up this Thursday, the 15th?
*
Did you want to read that garden-y thought again while you think of your own? Here it is…
A gardener should branch out, see what takes root and forms a new shoot, because it may perhaps flower and bear fruit, which could contain the seed of an idea, that if allowed to germinate, might lead the gardener beyond their own little patch of dirt into a greater garden where more ideas can be sown, which, once sprouted, could become a vine that if followed to its end, might lead to more riches than a compost bin bears in the fall.
If you come up with a similiar thought, let me know. Mine contains about 14 garden-y words. (Gardener, branch, root, shoot, flower, fruit, seed, germinate, dirt, garden, sown, sprouted, vine, compost).
Shoot, I didn’t include ‘hoe’ in that sentence!
*
I promise to return to regular blog posts, perhaps with actual information that another gardener might use, in the near future.
A fecund sentence, indeed!
I’ll leave it to the same fellow bloggers who wrote such magnificent poetry on the theme of a Norfolk pine to answer this challenge.
You had me going there, especially with the early rhymes of root/shoot/fruit. Sounds like a line of New Age greeting cards is on the horizon!
Let me vine for a little while about how much I rooted for you in that little epic, and how Green Envious I was of your talents. Sorry, tis late and that’s the best I can come up with on short notice.
This post is a most needed post during this time of year Carol. Your subtle humor carries many of us northern gardeners through the wearying gray winter months. Don’t go all serious on us.
You do realize that GBBD this month is going to be on the coldest day of the year. WHINE…
Sign of a true writer: you like to play around with words the way you like to play in your garden. It’s down to 10F degrees today; alternatives to gardening: seed catalogs and garden blogs… and maybe some bird-watching.
How could I resist such a challenge? Here goes:
There comes a season in every gardener’s life when the skies cloud up and the rains of ennui begin to fall; so before this pernicious weed of a mood takes root, the gardener must seize the hoe of initiative and winnow out the negative shoots to allow space for positive thoughts to bask in the sun of a harvest of memories, each a beautiful flower blooming in the bed of the soul, inviting in the bluebird of happiness and the squirrel of creativity to emerge like a butterfly from the crysalis of the potting shed of ideas.
If you have any clue of what that means, let me know.
As usual, you make me laugh. I thought, perhaps, with all that branching out language, you were promoting the Chicago Spring Fling in May.
Here goes: A hoe knows were all the weed grow, but sometimes the gardeners, hoes where the hoe shouldn’t go, resulting in a hole where a plant is now a has been.~~Dee
Whew, I needed a breath in there somewhere! 😉 I’m afraid I’m not as talented as you in the writing department but I do appreciate the chuckle. And your sentiment is so true. I didn’t anticipate where blogging about the garden would take me either!
And once again, congrats on the mention in the paper and on Garden Rant!
Loved the interviews but I am not going to try to meet the word challenge. The thought that I might be able to do it is too scary!
While looking out the window etched in delicate wintry ice crystals to a world blanketed like the tundra in a sparkling white top coat of crusted snow that covers the plowed earth in a deep freeze below, a flurry of thoughts drifts through cold gray matter and piles into chilly frosted mounds that must wait frozen and motionless until a warm thaw releases them or they are hoed aside by even flakier dreams.
I work with what I have and there are more than fourteen winter words, but I’ll let you count them and see if we agree. There are of course major bonus points for the word hoed.
Only you, Carol, only you … although MMD and Christopher rose to the challenge quite expertly. One would almost think they’d done this before!
TOO FUNNY, CAROL!