Background: The calamity that is Carty, no matter how bad his DIY (which is worse than my cooking!), the only thing worse is my gardening. But that never stopped me yet, and I think my latest efforts in Edenmore angered even the Nature Gods, as nothing else explains the run of bad luck I had… Read all about it…
If greenfingers are what folk are born with
Those who flowers and nature understands
Well then I was not born with such,
Never mind greenfingers, I dont even hane greenhands!
But they say that God loves a tryer,
And if so He really loves me
For as a Fool in a Fools paradise
I often in spade in my garden I be.
On this March morning, no make that an evening,
I, being laze, am rare up before noon,
I set out some wild flower beds to dig out,
Plant some seeds and flowers before rises the moon!
The compost for them that I sought to get out,
– A simple job for anyone else from a garden shed! –
No for me… the lock seized, I must use a screwdriver,
Remove the locking bracket instead!
But the Gods of Nature intervened
That see both flower and weed wach as their Child
The screwdriver nib broke, I stareted swearing
It was as if the Nature Gods wanted the garden left wind!
But no! I persisted, I will not be beat,
To think that Nature thinks so, not a chance!
So I leavered and bent the lock open
Nature Gods weaped and wailed: “Dont Kill the Plants!”
My quarry fetched: mere Fate cannot stop me!
Where lazyness cant, and more often it succeeds!
Like a man crazed I dig as if I liked gardening
Stricken, a Nature God falls and to death bleeds!
It looked all right if I may say so…
I planted seeds straight from the pack – such romance!
More or less as the pack it said to…
The Nature Gods in vain cried: “Dont Kill the Plants!”
The daffodils there waving looked so inviting
Growing wild in a clump, bright in flower…
They need to be thinned, says I who about gardeining knows nothing
But with a spade in hand, I the gardener have the power!
But with each transplaned they looked, shook sad and wilted
I hoped that each one would survive
So I doused each with a squall of water
Hoped against nature that each one would thrive…
The moon in the sky in her time rose as I finished
Not a cloud sat with her there high in the sky…
Far too late I worried, to late by far I wondered
If frost strikes tonight the flowers will die!
Why to Fate did I not listen when with bad luck she struck me?
When she caused a broken shed door lock on me by chance?
I should have halted when the Nature Gods angered they screamed
Through a broken screwdriver: “Dont Kill the Plants!”