AnElephantCant claim he’s green fingered
He is a flop and a failure as a horticulturist
With a spade or a trowel
He can make the soil howl
He is as much fun in a garden as the average vulture is
This is a weekly invitation to write a short piece of fiction (c. 150 words) based on a photo prompt (below) provided by Alastair.
Just click on the link to see some fantastic floral fables in response to this week’s excellent prompt.
But please cast an eye over AnElephant’s wilting weeds first.
I love my garden.
It gives me such pleasure to tend my little herbaceous plants, prune my roses, cultivate my geraniums.
And I get such joy from my prize-winning vegetables.
Well, since my Ron passed, nearly ten years now, I find it gives me a purpose in life.
Although I often feel he is still here, keeping an eye on me, laughing at my little jokes.
People ask me how I do it.
It’s all in the soil, I tell them.
And they ask if I get lonely, why I don’t get a cat, or a puppy.
Pets come and go, I say, I see signs up all the time.
Lost, please call …
But my marrows, well, they just keep getting bigger and better.
Like I say, it’s all in the soil.