Thursday, April 15, 2010

Petunia Melancholy

I would like to start this entry by apologizing to my viewership, for I am dreadfully sorry to have to admit that as a result of unforeseen circumstances, this Saturday will be devoid of a new episode of Kevin Carmichael's Greenfingers. I understand that that's the day that people expect it, but instead it will be released on a Monday, despite the fact that I'm aware that that isn't the same as Saturday at all. In the interest of full disclosure and getting the sympathies of those who will experience disappointment at the prospect of having to wait the extra couple days for my words, I will explain to you the events leading to this delay.

As I woke up this morning and began my early gardening ceremonies, the Petunias caught my eye. While the Petunias rarely fail to catch my eye, this was an instance when it was out of something other than a desire for pleasurable distraction. As someone with a deep feel for plants, it only took me a few seconds and a whiff of the air to notice something insidious was afoot. Further investigation confirmed my suspicions, it seems my Petunias have recently entered a stage of clinical depression. As plant-owners yourselves, I'm sure you can understand my need to prioritize this, and I don't need to tell you the level of distress one goes through when a flower has lost its exuberance, much less when the number exceeds one. I'm going to sleepover in the garden for a few nights to try to take their minds off things. Maybe get them some special fertilizer or another form of excitement; in fact, perhaps I will set up a television and we shall marathon Magnum P.I.! I'm certainly no stranger to the healing powers of basking in the warm light of television, especially when accented by the soothing tones of Tom Selleck's moustache.

So, until Monday.
Kevin Bartholomew Carmichael


  1. Dear Kevin,

    I completely understand.

    My jade plant has gone through many difficult times, and I always devote myself to easing its pain.
    When it was just a cutting a few inches tall, still growing its first roots in that little green pot, my cat knocked it from the window sill and the poor thing snapped right in half with just a thread keeping it in one piece.
    I propped that baby jade up with a spoon, and by god the little creature healed itself right up.
    A miracle!

    More recently, I turned old jade so it could sun on the other side, and I guess it had been leaning on the window, because the next morning it had fallen over and almost all of its roots were exposed.
    Again, I propped it up - this time with a stick since it is much, much bigger now - and it took good care to heal itself up.
    It only lost a few leaves in the trauma.
    It's doing quite well now, new leaves spreading all the time.

    Anyways, you take good care of those petunias.
    I find that my jade plant likes when I sing it the theme song from Two and a Half Men.
    I recommend trying that.


    P.S. It's monday.

  2. I appreciate your kind words.
    I am sorry to hear about your jade plant, but we must remember that the greens which struggle are those most likely to lead impressive lives!
    Spoons certainly are capable of remarkable things.

    And, ah yes, the power of song, an incredibly valueable tool in allowing greens to emerge from the Earth with exuberance. Myself, I like to try to improvise jingles in their native tongue, accompanied with burly licks from a banjo.

    With Equal Sincerity,