I was wasting time doing online research when I came across this delightful gardening blog. Clearly this post was written by a gardener, someone I can definitely relate to. The blogger identifies herself as “Carol,” an eccentric gardener, gardening geek, passionate about plants.
I thought Carol’s commentary on how gardeners count was too fun to keep to myself, so I’m sharing it here. Besides, this way I get to take a break do more research for future articles. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did! And while you’re at her site, be sure to admire her extensive hoe collection.
While taking a break and perusing an assortment of gardening websites, I stumbled across this story at “Dave Hobson’s Garden Humor: To boldly grow where no one has groan before.” Yes, you can tell from the tagline that this site is a lot of fun.
I have David’s permission to re-post his story, as long as I include the fact that he wrote it, he owns the copyright, you can see it on his website, and you can email him at email@example.com. (I was a bit concerned about posting his email address right out there in the open where all sorts of nasty software programs can find it and send him emails about missing fortunes, prescription drugs, and the fact that there are giant star-nosed moles in the storm drains under Boise—but he insisted.) After I went to all this trouble, the least you can do is read it and laugh. Oh, and the goat photo is all mine. Continue reading “Get your Goat”
I loved this poem, and I hope you do too. In fact, I’d recommend you read the entire book, but it appears to be out of print. However, there are collection of Nash’s poetry available, so I’ll recommend you read those instead.
You Can’t Get There from Here
by Ogden Nash
Bird watchers top my honors list.
I aimed to be one, but I missed.
Since I’m both myopic and astigmatic,
My aim turned out to be erratic,
And I, bespectacled and binocular,
Exposed myself to comment jocular.
We don’t need too much birdlore, do we,
To tell a flamingo from a towhee;
Yet I cannot, and never will,
Unless the silly birds stand still.
And there’s no enlightenment in a tour
Of ornithological literature.
Is yon strange creature a common chickadee,
Or a migrant alouette from Picardy?