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November 24, 2006

I do not speak your language.

After work, I came home and knew immediately that Francisco had been at the house. For one thing, the backyard tree which had fought back all summer from last year's disastrous pruning had once again been pruned to within a shaggy inch of its life.

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The weeds, however, carefully cultivated and thriving all throughout the yard were as big and strong as ever.

The general operating philosophy of the gardener is that no weed shall be harmed, no blade of grass or actual planned shrub shall be left standing. It's an interesting take on backyard management. We learn as we go.

However, the most startling discovery was ... well, I have no explanation for it. You see, I have several hanging potted plants around the back patio. They're all reposing in various shades of deadness, because I haven't had a lot of time for garden maintenance these days. But the pots hang there anyway in their little macrame swings and sway sweetly in the breeze, rustling their dead little leaves.

All except... one. Which I discovered sitting out on the middle of the concrete patio floor, surrounded by nothing, not broken, no apparent reason whatsoever for it to be there. It wasn't there before Francisco came. It was hanging and happy when I left it. What was the significance of this? Was it a sign? A secret language, a symbol meant to be decoded? Like a crop circle for urban backyards? What on earth could be the meaning behind this single solitary hanging plant now artfully arranged in code on my patio floor?


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Posted by laurie at November 24, 2006 12:57 PM