“Oh, look, I’m blooming! I’m so pretty and I love my name. 'Blossom Peacock’. Don’t I look just divine, ready for a big ol’ par-tee! Really, I’m just the prettiest… Oh no! I don’t have any leaves. Oh dear. Oh my. How will I ever regenerate my bulb if I don’t have any leaves. I hope I get some soon… Oh goodness. This is embarrassing. Help! Can anyone help me!? I need leaves.”
“Excuse me. Carol. That’s your name, right? Carol, you can see that I’m done blooming, can’t you? If you can, and I know that you can, could you please cut off this bloom stalk so I don’t set seed? Really, I don’t have energy for both seeds and bulb rejuvenation. It’s one or the other. It’s confusing to know which one you want if you leave this bloom stalk. Could you please cut it off? For crying out loud, you aren’t taking a picture of me looking like this, are you!?”
“Water? Are you kidding me? Water? Seriously? My roots are sitting in cold, murky water. I think I’m developing a fungus and I can’t breath. Can someone take away this saucer full of water? I’m no expert, but I think that’s the problem.”
“Carol. Over here. Can you check that plant next to me? It just doesn’t look right. I think it has mealybugs or something. Can you move it into the other room? I am so susceptible to those darn mealybugs, you know that, right? Hurry, I see something crawling toward me!”
“I can’t see! It is so dark in here. Did Carol forget to open the blinds again? Geez, that’s the only thing we ask of her in the morning and she can’t even get up early enough to do that before she leaves for work. I need my light. We all need our light. If we band together…”
“Hey! Stop dropping those leaves on me! Get your branch away from me, this is my space. Carollllll, it’s getting kind of crowded over here. I want my own window!”
“I’m blooming! I think I’m the first one. Is there a prize for being first? Did I make it in time for bloom day? Huh, did I? Mmmmmm. I smell delicious, if I do say so myself. Aren’t I pretty! What’s my name? Do I have a name? Hey, when I’m done blooming, what’s going to happen to me? Compost bin? What's that? Oh, dear. I don’t think I want to know! I'll think about that tomorrow. I'm so pretty and pink...”
Hey all you plants. Keep it down. I’m trying to write a blog post here. For the love of blooming radishes, can you just give me five minutes of peace and quiet? Thank you.