It is true, as some have been saying, that I have taken up gardening. It cannot be denied that, on the occasional afternoon, or evening, I can be seen pottering around little patches of lawn digging holes here and filling holes up over there. As the Baron can vouch, we have even indulged in a little spot of thistle pilfering as a team activity, in order to supplement the already impressive weed collection we have in our backyard.
I know that many of you may find this partaking in the sport of soil sifting rather quixotic on my part. 'Tim', you may ask, 'what on earth do you know about gardening? Do you have any idea what you are growing?' I admit the consequences of many botanical endeavours can be dangerous, deadly even: what is a dear little green bud in the loam one morning may be a man sized, carnivorous, mobile triffid the next. Will a whippersnipper be enough to keep their rabid bloodlust at bay? Who can tell.
But quite aside from that, I can give a full and confident list of all the contents of our growing garden. It will of course be different to the Baron's list, but that is neither here nor there: why, there is
and this thing
and those things
and those other things
and all those other things
and the other things that are even more other than the other things
and the other other things that are even more other other than the other other things
and that stuff (it's really nice, that stuff is)
and those bits.
Just this morning, the Baron and I were planting a thing, a very particular thing. They were bearded things. Well, that's what they were called anyway, though I couldn't even see any beards - not even a little moustache. Maybe we should start them off with moustache toupees, to give them a sense of confidence?
But anyway, I should say I have a very definite plan for this garden, an alphabetical plan. Each plant will be named and categorised under its letter of the alphabet. Like, l for 'leafy things' and g for 'grassy things' and r for 'rosy things' (like, I dunno, roses), and f for 'fruity things', and b for 'big things'. I had trouble thinking up stuff for other letters - even 'a', but eventually I decided that 'assorted stuff' would do it.
As all gardeners know, it is pleasant, on long summer days, to lie in the shade of the leafy things, with one's arms in the fresh grassy stuff, while a cool breeze blows through the flowery objects and carries various smelly sensations to your nose, and to look over at the shadows cast on the ground by the big and leafy things as the wind sends their leafy bits rustling hither and thither, thither and hither. Occasionally, one might even reach over to the fruity things and pluck off some... fruit, and admire the soon-to-be bearded things as they twirl their youthful moustaches in the long golden sunlight, and you see pollen from the flowery stuff drift through the air, and you sigh.
A famous person once said: "Man's first home was a garden, and as his garden is his castle, that is where the heart is." Now who could possibly disagree with - or even understand - that? Quite right.
Tim, your links stink, you fink!
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- A Zemblanian abroad and at home
- A hodge podge of hotzeplotz
- THE SLAMMA!
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- The Snarking of the Hunt
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- The briefs...
- ... and the brieflets
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