Through A Plant’s Eyes

“Psssst. Phil! Hey Phil! Have you seen the Rainmaker lately? It’s been weeks since she’s been around with the water. And I can’t remember the last time she fed us!”

“Oh I remember it all right. She must have been reading Martha Stewart Feeds Plants. She poured the foulest smelling stuff I’ve ever heard tell of all OVER my beautiful leaves. If she’d just doused my roots it would have been perfect. Nobody sees my roots. But, oh no. Miss High and Mighty Klutzy Hands had to get it all over my foliage! She’s useless!!”

“And when did YOU get so high and mighty, Phil? I remember when you were just a twinkle in some bee’s eye as he shook the pollen off his leg. Back then you were pretty damn grateful for that stinky rotten food.”

“I’ve come a long way since then, Diff, and I’ve had to claw and scrape my way through every minute of it. That fickle Rainmaker was no help, that’s for sure. Why, one week she gives us enough water to last us through a dry season in the Sahara and then we don’t see her again for months! How’s a plant supposed to maintain consistent leafy growth with treatment like that? And to top it off, she suffers from guilt pangs. How we suffer for her guilt! Food rich enough to turn an Oak’s stomach – and we’re supposed to be grateful! Bah!”

“I know what you mean, Phil. And all the friends we’ve seen come and go. It’s downright frightening. New pots appear and lovely rich new soil. Then one by one she takes us outside….and many have never returned. Poor Spath! Remember her? Those lovely white sexy flowers she’d produce? Then she started drooping. Water didn’t help. The new pot only lifted her spirits for a few days. Then one morning – she was all limp and weak, her flowers dragging the ground. The Rainmaker took her outside and we never saw her again.”

“She was beautiful, wasn’t she? And remember Ivy – what a looker! And Fern! Must have been cancer that got her or maybe aphids. Poor Rose, her blooms were never quite right. And that funny fellow with the roots that looked like rabbit’s feet…..such a pity.”

“And what’s up with those blasted animals? I hate seeing the cats especially. They pee on my soil. I know I need water, but that’s poison! And that one with no tail – I’ll bet a venus fly trap got hold of that one while it was nibbling leaves! Serves it right!!”

“Oh yeah – and get this! Those cats think they can hide in our leaves! Like we live in a rain forest or something. What idiots. And then that clumsy dog with those goofy looking wrinkles comes after them, we get dumped over and stepped on. Last time they shredded half my leaves and I never did get all my dirt back! What are animals good for anyway? They’re not pretty like we are. They don’t give off oxygen. They are nowhere NEAR as sturdy as we are. They must have something on the Rainmaker or else there’s no way she’d keep them!”

“That’s for damn sure! Animals are a waste of energy! Now where is that Rainmaker?”

“Well, she’s probably off feeding HER fat face and figuring we’ll take care of ourselves. AS IF!!!!!”

“You know, Phil, I’ve heard whispers of something called Black Thumb. You don’t suppose our Rainmaker has fallen prey to that?”

“Oh stop it! You’re scaring me so bad my roots are curling up! If the Rainmaker has Black Thumb our days are numbered! Every tick of that clock on the mantle brings us that much closer to death. There’s no escaping Black Thumb.”

“I’m shuddering! I wish the sun would come out and warm my undergrowth!”

Ah folks……..pity my plants.