This Saturday, P decided to do some gardening. P wanted to clear his neighbour’s misconstrued ideas of his horticultural capabilities, especially after the tirade he received the other day.
Always eager to help, P had volunteered to look after his neighbour’s garden while he went away for a month. P had assured him that the plants would be watered twice daily. The summer was very dry. However, other whims and other fancies beset him and P managed to head to the garden, only the day just prior to his neighbour’s return. The plants had betrayed him and lay straggled and desiccated. They remained dead and wilted even though he drenched them thoroughly.
Albeit a bit shaken, P had expected his neighbour to merely shrug and view the situation jovially…. That was not how things turned out though!
Adding to the insult was his neighbour’s reaction a week later when P had nourished his own little garden. To P’s chagrin he received a call from the city council and he had to spend one entire afternoon getting the fish meal buried in the soil, rather than liberally spread all around the plants. P considered his neighbour’s complaint to be very unreasonable. A fish can swim, or bounce up and down in water. A fish can pout at you as his gold-fish does sometimes. But to expect dead fish not to smell ………..wasn’t that irrational?
However, despite his neighbour’s irksome behaviour, it was a glorious Saturday and P wanted to mend fences with him. He started singing the “garden rhyme”, hoping it would touch his neighbour’s heart, occasionally eyeing the graveyard of a garden on the other side of the fence.
Mary, Mary, quite contrary
How does your garden grow?………….
P wasn’t sure if his neighbour’s windows slammed shut just then……………