A dampish day, but that’s okay,
The sky is overcast,
The garden’s wet, so I’m all set,
The watering chore is past.
A squirrel hops, he looks, and stops,
He chatters to my face,
Then turns to run and have more fun,
At some much safer place.
I pick a pear and am aware
That rabbits like to chew,
If fruit should fall to ground at all,
It’s nibbled through and through.
The garden thrives and gives up chives
To make a lovely sauce,
But not the squash, it was a wash,
Complete and total loss.
I’m glad that kale does not get stale,
It’s growing, slow but strong,
This healthy plant in soup just can’t
Make anything go wrong.
A lonely rose, so bravely grows,
And blooms its last few days,
But come next year, you must not fear,
Again, it will amaze.
My savoury plant was in dire need of a haircut. I’m sure it thought its usual hairdresser had gone out of business with the lockdown following the Covid outbreak. Imagine its surprise when the hairdresser came along with her shears and gave it that long overdue cut.
When the leaves are dry, I’ll strip them from the stems and put them in a jar to use throughout the winter until next year’s crop is ready.
My tendrils grew so wild and free,
And I no longer looked like me.
My tresses dragged, my body sagged,
And every passing bug got snagged.
I knew I was in dire need,
I looked like hell, oh yes indeed.
So when the pruners clipped my hair,
Someone responded to my prayer.
They saved my growth for other use
And saved me from this rude abuse
My leaves when added to the food,
Impart great flavour when it’s chewed.
And I no longer look so wild,
With hair like some unruly child.
I now look pretty, tidied up,
The folks will taste me when they sup.
It’s how I pay the salon fee
A cut and set that pampered me.
I’m glad that I won’t go to waste
And give to food a lovely taste.