In keeping with the aphorism that truth is stranger than fiction, and while remaining true to the gardening flavor of this thread, I will share with you something only a constant reader will understand.
Before I begin my short tale, I must tell you that of all my skills, there is one at which I am exceedingly talented—I kill plants. No one is better at this than me. All I have to do is look in a plant’s direction and it turns brown and dies. Trusting a plant to my care is nothing less than a death sentence.
So, on my property, there is a patch of scrub where nothing grows—well, almost nothing. I call it the lot because it’s…well…it’s a lot.
Every couple of weeks I run though the lot with my string trimmer. I have a 4-stroke trimmer that can whip the hardiest weed into coleslaw in a blink of an eye. Did I mention that I am good at killing plants?
For each of the past three years, from among the weeds of the lot, there grows a single rose. When I am trimming, I won’t slow down my work for a flower, so I and am forever mulching the rose right down to the root. But like a B-movie monster that just won’t die, it keeps coming back!
Just this weekend, I think I finally figured out why it won’t die. It won’t die because it’s not just a rose—it’s the manifestation of the Dark Tower in my level of the wheel of ka. Apparently, Second Avenue and 46th Street is not the only hub for the Dark Tower on earth.
I know there are skeptics and unbelievers among you, so here is my evidence. I took this photo of the lot this weekend:
I am certain no constant reader will deny this is a rose.
I am heading out to look for a thinny. If you don’t hear back from me in a week or two, send a search party to mid-world.