The Grass is Greener on the other side of Green lights! Come fast, Gardner!

Dear Gardner,

Just an URGENT note before I get totally wrung into a forage dryer. In fact, chances are near to certain in terms of me getting packed off to the long rooms of —dreary composts, very well referred to as Dung-yards-at-ewes-bleat-lane, in the region of #Everfoundinnewerlands.

The prevailing circumstance and the general tension of my nerves makes me write this. So please treat this letter as my earnest pleadings—more like, a bickering yelp,flowing into a fading sleep; for much of me is about to perish . These are difficult times for me especially when I am at the verge of being thrown into situations wherein the cow sits and the bull stands, yet anyone could be the proximate cause of droppings and my thoughts turning to them to wonder which dung goes into which especially,in between, nature calls and the next retreat.

Meaning , sinking in heat , I might turn into stick and descend into the fodder to serve the bovine gastronomic relief. But that , may not be the case , if you come by and take control. So benumbed , here I am , awaiting to see you ,at the earliest, with attention fixed at the doorway. Come soon, before I swoon!

As you might want to know further, here’s a write up to tell you all about it. This is what is happening with the garden you mow every week. For some reason, lately, you haven’t been this side. It’s been a while since you paid a visit here. Naturally, you are required more, now, than ever. Where are you?! Please come fast before I rankle into a fall and get booked for a sacrilege afar.

And now, you must know this , for sure—

It’s been two weeks since I was bought off a nursery, which was a great deal because it was more than I could have ever imagined for myself. Hard to say, I was pushed out of the nursery in a hurry. The farmer was attending to us a bit more rigorously, of lately. I guess, he saw the value of us (plants) in the whole gamut of creation. I can’t swear that he wasn’t feeling tired managing us daily. Expecting a revenue from the sale of “me-likes,” he was dithering about —too much, while handling me. That paid off and I got sold! Torture settled and departure unsealed. That’s as nice as it could be. Within days, I adorned the garden of a wealthy buyer and the prospect of this was getting me to believe in humaneness and humanity, in general. He seemed like a benevolent spirit casted to lift me to high spirits.

But, here upon, my expectations crashed into crisis. Purported to be beleaguered by a devout caretaker, I thought, I would be cared for, all day long; evermore so watered and fed more—spontaneously, under the auspices of his—fully irrigated and automated lawns. The irrigation system of my new abode was supposedly feeler sensitive to the plant needs. Unbelievable isn’t it ?! Yes, indeed! I (too) thought that this sort of nurturance and perpetual looking would be my new dawn into new days. I cheered for the new beginnings.

But, Unfortunately, lapsing for worse, after putting me to bed, my owner has taken into a new kind of misgiving. Qualmishly he ushers snoozes and snores more deeply.

For hours he lounges in a miasma of “no-cares” and sits there trying to decide —which area to scratch on dutifully; and if it be so, whether it w’d be the bum, the butt or the full ass on, unobtrusively. You won’t believe, once I found him wandering off to live under the hammock grounds, right under the oak trees. He went down there digging a straight ditch to empty his bladder ; awkwardly unawares that his piss was an intolerable magma pouring directly into district municipality where fresh waters were channeling into other distributories.

That sort of headlong lunge was spreading all in the nearby localities as well. Thro’ the blazing air a stench was hovering remarkably. A source of waste and water , all mixed up so unbearably. midst the scorching heat and terrible flares of his diurnal duties he has become negligent of me.Also, I was told that you possess dittanies that have powers to sprinkle magic and spread aromatic smells simultaneously. That will be my savior. So, come to save me please!

Furthermore, this situation is making —all the plants horror bound, and many have started mutating dolichocephalicaly to avoid mutany. Some plants have pulverized due to the excessive heat and their dusty wafts are creating doppelgänger effects in the near vicinity. That’s scary! Survival of the species seems to be at work most rigorously and you seem to be residing,elsewhere,nonchalantly. Why?

And like it is said and believed universally —“oh pas decant les domestiques,” I beg of you to come and repair me please. The owner looks as if he might bury me —soon, in all this.

Perhaps, before I shout out, half a dozen times: I am gone , ouch! all gone—with absolutely all hopes of survival gone. Come, Cheer me up a bit!

Previously, my life, at the farmer’s nursery, was also not a joyous journey. I was pathetically lousy and out grown in company. Out there, the layabouts and the daily routines were particularly leaving me in despair and forlorn, quite categorically. Those regimented waterings, waved at random instants, alongside the mind blogging crashes of the water hoses,were posing many more irreconcilable tragedies.

And also, over there,at the farmer’s nursery, life was more like a public show. There was no privacy from the constant gleanings of the gawkers—more so, prospective hawkers. Meaning —buyers. And yes, far off from appearing to be the vying buyers, many were more like —hanging-on ; getting about sauntering, as sheer vagabonds. And, then again, the fine maintenance masters,launched their washes, every now and then, to —literally, drown us in the pools of this flooded butchery.

In ways, all plants bore overbearing cares under such hounding debauchery. That all was hijacking me ( and the plants) from our little rested breaths, and subjecting us to reckless over pourings of affections.None so blind as those who didn’t see, we were overwhelmed by those wrongly dozed , soul stirring, and by all to be owned —soil pillars, so grounded on volatile vulnerabilities.

Then, as Short horns on long farms , life at the nursery was turning into a new tease. A new form of vulgarity emerging of a new promiscuities. Every morn anybody and everybody would come to touch, fiddle and gauge us, for adoptive redemption. As if sniffing up to those snuffles, to adopt ( one or two) for their own. More so and most importantly,with their Midas touch ,as if , approving or disapproving o’er their lately found ,preferred—, new shrubbery. To that, some lightly came and others, scurried away hurriedly. Still others, with their little strokes, fell great oaks of tomfoolery. Anyone from Tom, Dick, or Harry w’d break loose to check on us for insect bites and heat scars. By mid day, everyone would leave . It was an unpleasant function to be part of this routined rejection, quite so —daily.

But in spite of all that, the day of optimism had arrived for me. A wealthy man purchased me under a, seemingly, declarative oath of domestication. And I thought he would take ardent care of me all his life long. But, least said , his actions took to the other end . He had turned horribly negligent.

So, after reading these lines , please come soon to attend and mend these slothful surroundings. My masters hands have long gone into waiting stupors. He has stopped to give decisive cares of any response. Please bring your tools. Those will be handy! And, if there’s anything I want you to do urgently enough, then that would be this request : at all the cross roads and intersections please burn all the GREEN LIGHTs and come fast to save my life ! It’s been a LONG THAW !

No , haw haw to that please !

Yours sincerely, Best for now: Mimosa plant (aspiring to be tree someday!)

💫✨ 🧡🦢🦢🦢🧡 ✨💫© August 18th , 2021 , by Madhu Goteti