Dead Flowers

There are those that would tell you a garden is a metaphor of life itself. You plant things, you tend to them, and you are rewarded for your hard work, and penalized when you fail to tend the garden properly. Sadly, even if you work hard, and do the right things, sometimes fate intervenes, and much like life, your garden fails, plants die or fail to bloom. Sometimes the weather is cruel, and your rose bushes get pounded into oblivion...

Well when you're sitting there
in your silk upholstered chair
talking to some rich folk that you know
well I hope you won't see me
in my ragged company
you know I never could be alone

I on the other hand, would tell you forget the metaphors, and remember this: gardening is unnecessary hard work. Just spent the late afternoon tending to the garden, and am reminded of why I never really did much with it before Jessica moved in. Namely, it is hard work, ultimately for a bunch of plants that I don't really care all that much about. But, because I know I have a responsibility to the neighborhood to make sure my house doesn't look like some sort of 3rd world nightmare, I'm out there, butt waving in the air, weeding the hell out of it. Hopefully the neighbors enjoy the spectacle.

Well when you're sitting back
in your rose pink Cadillac
making bets on Kentucky Derby day
I'll be in basement room
with a needle and a spoon
and another girl, to take my pain away

My goal this year is to get the front of the house done up entirely in perennials, thus reducing the need to plant year after year. Granted, the weeding will still need to be done, but if I can eliminate the planting itself, my inner slacker will be somewhat pleased. Tomorrow...the back fence area. I am gonna be one cranky mo-fo.

And you can, send me Dead Flowers every morning
Send me Dead Flowers by the US Mail
Say it with Dead Flowers at my wedding
And I won't forget to put roses on your grave