Perennials? she proposes. Annuals, he insists.
Regular pruning is advised
Then flats, she supposes. From seed, he persists.
Red poppies, he opines. Too loud, she declines.
Then daisies, he suggests. No fragrance, she protests.
Discard the weeds, she resolves. We’ll keep for compost, he prefers.
Then we should water, she declares. It rains tomorrow, he avers.
This critter’s dead, he displays. Oh really, must you? she dismays.
Can’t dig these beds, she concludes. Well that’s insulting, and he broods.
Your grape’s amazing! he commends. Your pepper’s perfect! she exclaims.
Birds in the birdbath! she exults. And look–a cowbird! he proclaims.
And some perennials? she replays. They’ll make the garden, he okays.
How fine you’re mine say the two, without the saying.
Susan BennetI'm so happy to have joined the gracious Retro family. The basics:
I have a background in marketing and museums.
I come alive when the leaves turn red.
I regret every tech mistake I have made or will ever make on this site.
I want a dog.
