Welcome to my Nightmare


No, you’ll find no dreadful scenes like this lurking about my property. There is no need for manufactured horror here. If I want to be filled with fright and despair, all I have to do is take a short walk around the yard. Do you dare to accompany me? All right, but just remember … I warned you!

The black lagoon of misery

This was once a cheerful water feature, with bright orange fish darting through the clear water. Now, the once-pristine pond is more like a swamp, choked with leaves and inexplicably-dead water plants. The fish lurk in the bottom, their only hope possible adoption by a kindly neighbor.

Dark shadows of doom overhead

By the thousands, they rustle in the breeze, still bright green for the most part, taunting us as they flutter down, one or two at a time. They’ll save the big drop until 3 hours before the first major snowstorm. And there they’ll lay, ready to be scooped up in heavy, sodden piles after the thaw.

Will the bulbs never end?

Who ordered all these? What could he or she have been thinking? Who’s going to plant all these? How much did all these cost? This is madness, I tell you, madness!

The forgotten bucket of … ew, what is that smell?!
Run away!


The killing fields

Here is where young, vibrant, healthy, expensive plants are taken to die … slowly. The torture is simple but exquisite. Over there is a really pricy maroon heuchera, purchased in July. Isn’t that the rare ginger hybrid, brought back from the trip to Plant Delights? I think there might be one leaf still alive.

OK, that’s all for today. Thank you for visiting my little garden. I’m sorry if it has been unpleasant. Once I had beautiful flower beds, lush ferns, colorful container annuals, and much more. Not any more.

The horror! The horror!

Posted by on October 31, 2007 at 5:00 am, in the category Uncategorized.
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21 responses to “Welcome to my Nightmare

  1. Tibs says:

    Good Halloween Story. Can certainly relate to it.

  2. Wolfie says:

    I can’t tell you how much better you have made me feel.

    The horror of my own garden has me terrified into catatonia.

    The BULBS!!! The Pond!!! AHHHHHHH!

  3. CheyJay57 says:

    That was very funny, and of course, vvvveeeerrrrrrryyyyyyy horrrrifffyyyyinnngg! Because I do sooooooo relate!!

  4. layanee says:

    I can identify with that garden horror! Did you sneak in and take pictures in my garden perchance? We have the same vignettes! Eat candy, that always helps!

  5. Pamela says:

    Pretty scary. I wish I could have looked at it without seeing my own frightful yard. Happy Halloween.

  6. Hahahaha! This is one of my favorite Rant posts ever, I think.

  7. Pam/Digging says:

    Great Halloween post, Elizabeth. I feel horror just by looking at the bags of bulbs. My god–so many! I’d be in despair about getting them all planted.

  8. susan harris says:

    We’re on an emotional roller-coaster from season to season.

  9. Heather says:

    Perfectly stated. I’m finding that there’s nothing sadder than watching my very first garden die.

  10. eliz says:

    Oh, layanee, there can be no comparison with your large and magnificent garden. Not from what I’ve seen! Nice of you to commiserate though.

  11. Kim says:

    LOL! Great post, Elizabeth. Maybe next year I can show my very own “Behind the Garage” (EEK!) for a Halloween horror.

  12. Joyce says:

    The stench rising from the organic fertilizer I just applied will surely nauseate any trick or treaters who dare the spider-encrusted shrubbery on the way to my front door. bwahahahahha.

  13. Brooke says:

    My horror is hauling all my bath water out by the bucket to water in my fall plantings because we are on a total outdoor watering ban!!! OMG!!! But no, I never considered just not planting anything this fall, I’m too stubborn to give up! Pray for rain in GA please.

  14. Curtis says:

    Its always sad to see the first frost and freeze come. One because it is the end of the growing season and two because I start to get cold at around 50 F.

  15. Lisa says:

    I simply don’t understand! MY garden is perfection, and my name is Martha Stewart…honest, doctor, I’ll get off the computer once the voices let me!

    Okay, back to reality: I think the same bulb-buying gremlin that got to you visited my house, too. I gave up on fish in my water feature after a raccoon removed them for me for the third time in a row.

    I like to leave plastic plant tags to mark the graves of my plant failures. I should tell you that it’s a reminder of my own fallibility, but I really leave them there so that I know where I have room to try killing something else next year.

    I don’t have to worry about falling leaves, though. What I don’t track into the house on my shoes is carried in by the cats. They lay down in the garden, and saunter in covered in leaves and completely unconcerned. Then they bathe themselves on the sofa, depositing leaves all over the living room.

    Instead of the bucket of mystery goo, I have a potting bench. It’s under all those pots…somewhere–I swear!

  16. Kathy says:

    Phew! I thought I was the only one! But unlike you, our leaves have mostly fallen now.

  17. Only one answer, Elizabeth. Get out there and dig.

  18. Lisa says:

    I feel comforted that someone else has a bulb addiction, too. Very fun post!

  19. doctor mom says:

    Thanks for the trip into your heart of darkness!

  20. Marte says:

    Very funny Elizabeth!