with permission from Bob Faulkner, daylily hybridizer, who shared this, this morn!
One Weed, Two Weeds, Green Weeds, Blue Weeds. Some are small, some
are tall, some so big they make you fall.
Some break off, others brown; some too hard to take them down. With a shovel, with a pick; There's so many I may get sick. I spray with poison to kill them all...I wish there were no weeds at all.
Then there's frost, or constant threats; the leaves all die, we're taking bets. Freeze warnings come, but little happens; it seems the weather folks are nappin.
Then the wind, right after it, hail; I run three blocks to get my mail. Will this strange spring never end?; why do I garden I ask my friends.
It seems to happen every year, and don't even mention those hateful deer.
I question it once and twice and thrice; then blooms appear it's all so nice. Why do we do it? Many ask. I guess the blooms are worth the task.
One bloom, two blooms: red blooms, blue blooms. Some are small, some are tall, some so big they make you fall. Yes it's work, it can be sad....but once they bloom it makes you glad.
