Ok, you'll think I'm one of those scary tree-hugger types after you read this, but honest, I'm not.
I drove to Walmart today in search of some more flowers to plant in my yard (rather late, yes). I entered the garden center through the big, opened doorway and stood there--shocked. Why? Before my eyes was a Petrified Flower Garden. Whole long poles were strung with hanging baskets of dried-up, dying flowers. Tables held neglected, flowering plants in various stages of near-death. I saw a hose on the ground near the new shipment of mums--those looked marvelous, but then, they'd just arrived and now is the time for the planting of mums.
Prices were slashed--they had to be for pots of near-death. I walked around for a half hour and longed to rescue every shriveled, gasping little potted plant.
For many years, I've believed plants had feelings, too. After all, we can all agree they're alive, can't we?
Anyway, I told Tom this afternoon that if *I* was working in the garden department of Walmart, I'd still water those poor little plants-- I don't care how late in the season it is. And it's not like the workers didn't have time--mostly while I was there, they stood around talking about the house one of them rented and how mean her landlord was.
Watering plants or gossiping? Gee, I wonder which one matters more? Maybe it's Walmart's policy to let those flowers die, but even there, I'd sneak water to them. I couldn't help myself. Hey, we're talking life or death here!
And that, Folks, is why I don't have a real job. シ
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Our Walmart does not have plant companies that come and refresh the plant stock and take away sickly and old plants. They just keep em and let them go uck or cut them back and there they sit with haircuts no mother would ever give and they still want full price for them...by the time they reduce anything it is 99% dead. I picked up the hose and watered them myself one time! Poor things.
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