Two years ago I bought a hydrangea.
It was blue.
This is what it looks like now:
I feel compelled to mention that the reason that we bought it was because it was blue.
It is now pink.
I already have a pink hydrangea.
And yes, this is the specimen that the unfortunate snail was hiding in before meeting his untimely death as a result of a rapidly arranged high-impact introduction to a wooden fence.
Which I still feel sort of bad about.
But back to the clearly-no-longer-blue hydrangea.
The problem, obviously, is that the hydrangea is too happy.
We spoil it.
We cater to it.
We water it, feed it, evict cephalopods from it, take pictures of it.
Any residual, lingering feelings of dissatisfaction have all but evaporated.
So now it apparently sees the world through rose-colored glasses.
Which is just not okay. It’s meant to be blue.
So, I’m on a mission now to depress my hydrangea.
Here are some of my ideas:
- Tell the hydrangea that it’s looking a bit round around the stems.
- Tell the hydrangea that the squirrel won’t come into our yard because it smells funny.
- Advise the neighbor’s cats to laugh at (not with) the hydrangea.
- Dress the hydrangea in discoordinating plaids.
- Make the hydrangea wear horned-rimmed glasses.
- Play tragic country songs about how the rosebush done gone and left it.
- Play tragic adult alternative songs about how the rosebush died too soon, too young.
- Play tragic polka songs. Of which they all are.
- Tell the hydrangea about the oil spill.
- Tell the hydrangea about the crisis in the middle east.
- Tell the hydrangea about the economic downturn.
(OK, now I’m depressed.)
This is my solution for being too lazy to go to the garden center to buy aluminum sulfate.
Although this raises an ethical points question. Do I get points for horticultural creativity and garden color balance, or do I lose points for undermining the mental health of deciduous shrub?
This is what I think about all day.
It’s amazing I can tie shoes.
