A Slightly Premature Lament
My beloved parsley plant is dying. On purpose. I know it must be on purpose because I have watered it, and then stopped watering it, and drained the roots. I put it in the sun, and removed it from the sun, and talked to it kindly in an Encouraging Tone but all to No Avail! I don't know what else to do with it. I have been forced to the conclusion that it has tired of its young life and is deliberately (and inconsiderately) wilting into a sad, crispy ruin. Perhaps it thought it would end a sadly depleted parsley plant, all its best and brightest cruelly picked and consumed before they had a chance to enjoy life, and wished to end its existence on its own term. But I think it cannot have considered the situation properly: I don't like parsley. I would never eat poor Imogen. I wanted a companion, a kitchen friend in whom to confide my darkest culinary secrets. However nothing I say can convince her to deviate from this tragic course of action. It is very damaging to my self esteem that she should prefer death to my company.
Having said all this, she has not kicked the bucket just yet. I will continue to live in the hope that she will realise that our wonderful colloqui nella cucina circa la cottura e la vita * are worth staying for.
*I think she is an Italian Parsley.
posted by miss machismo @ 9:49 PM
3 Comments:
young ones tend to make decisions so brashly. perhaps she is an adolecent parsly plant and is feeling sulky about her new situation. I hope that she is feeling better soon, and realises what a fantastic companion she has in you.
ti voglio bene, Imogen
Well well. This certainly is a very MUNDANE and TIRESOME post.
Perhaps your Italian Parsley is from the south of Italy and finds Scotland cold and clammy at this time of year (even though it IS only early October). I suggest knitting it a scarf to warm up it's long neck.
Post a Comment
<< Home