Thursday, December 23, 2004

The Garden, continued....

The Garden, Part I

The Garden, Part II

The Garden, Part III

The son set to work, it would take a while. He would have to take a special plant seed from the plants when they died and put them in the greenhouse his father was building. The lil' gardening plants were at work in the garden, toiling away. They grew, died and mutiplied. There was the yellowish brown pollution in the garden but things where not so bad. There was still good in it, even as it slowly died. Gardening was much more difficult for the gardening plants without the father's and son's help. He could have just tilled up a whole new gardening spot for the gardening plants and put them in it with some new plants he created. He wished he could help them garden just as they had planned but the pollution in them and the garden had to be dealt with.

The gardening plants life-span grew shorter. He brought a special seed from them in the greenhouse as they died. There they would be born again and they too could watch the garden through the greenhouse window. Sometimes they would ask the son if it was time to move. He would always reply, "No. For I think I can save more plants out of the polluted garden." So he continued his work. The pollution had gotten in the lil' gardening plants eyes and they had begun to struggle against each other, just as all the plants did. They could not see each other as gardening plants so well and some thought they were just plants, like the others. They could not see the son as he worked so well now either.

Sometimes, a lil' gardening plant would look at all the others struggling against each other with their tender tendrils that had become more like tentacles and the strong stalks that had become more thorny. Then in disgust they would go up on a rock. Perhaps the son had given them just a little bit of water and it cleared their eyes of the pollution a little. So there on the rocks they would sit. And so the pollution cleared from their eyes a little more. Their eyes still were not that good but they got a little better than the others. Sometimes these plants began to notice the son's huge footprints in the yard and might say, "Me think that's footprint!" So they would come down off the rock and tell the other lil' gardening plants, "Footprint! Eyes, see!" They could not talk so good, like most plants. But when translated it meant, "Those who have eyes, let them see!" Most of the other lil' plants did not listen and went on with what they were doing. There were many growing right in huge footprints, like blades of grass. When they heard a plant prophet they would say, "Huh? Me no see footprint!" as they stared at the ground and their own roots. Sometimes they would demand to see the footprint without being willing to climb the rock to see it. Then they would get upset about it and would complain about the gardener's son, and why, oh why he would not communicate to them. Then they would get upset about the pollution being there, even as their roots took it up in to them. Some of them would say, "Me no like son!" The son heard them sometimes as he worked and thought, "I know they would like me if they knew me. But I can't save them all." Sometimes he would see an especially polluted plant that came from a line of polluted plants who was ripping up other plants and trying to put its seeds where they did not belong, while taking the best watering spots too. Some of these plants he pulled up and threw over the fence to the neighbor, the neighbor was hungry.

One day it came to the point that all the plants were polluted. Too many of them had come to work against the son as he tried to clean and save them. They did not have the eyes to see at all. Instead they did what was right in their own eyes and what was in their eyes was the yellowish brown pollution. So the son set aside one plant and cleaned his eyes and ears enough to tell him to gather together some twigs and sticks. So the little plant gathered together some twigs and sticks and the son put that little plant and his line on the sticks along with some other plant lines. Then his mom came out to water the garden like she sometimes did. But this time she blasted all the gardening plants who worked against her son away with the hose. The garden was a muddy mess for a bit and the pollution was still in the plants that survived but the son said to his mom, "I can still save more." The father replied, "You're getting so good at gardening that you will always be able to save more! But the next time that happens we are burning the garden and moving to the new house I'm building."

Many generations of gardening plants and plants came from those saved on that day.

Then one day, the mother said to the son, "I think you'd better take a look at the garden." So he went to their backporch. There he saw all the lil' gardening plants trying to make a tower of twigs and things to get on their back porch. He thought, "The neighbor must have told them to try to get in our house." Then his dad said, "If they get in our house they may well overtake us, like some polluted plague. They might even get in my laboratories and greenhouses. They could turn themselves to plants as smart as our neighbor. I've had enough dealings with him and his ways." So he went and made a spray and sprayed the plants to cause the pollution in them to go into the part they needed to communicate with each other. Then he put a fence across the backporch so that the plants would not know it was there anymore. All the gardening plants went to different spots in the garden with others who shared their type of polluted communication, some still tried to build towers like the one that they had been building to get on the gardener's backporch. But there was a fence around them now and they could not see the backporch to the house anymore.

The father said, "I say we just burn the garden now. These polluted plants are tiresome to me. They remind me of our neighbor."

But the son said, "Wait, I can save more." as he shut the new gate and took another batch of seeds into their greenhouse.

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