What a happy title for a prompt, makes you
really feel new born and full of life.
This bleeding heart plant was dust in the wind. I never planted it, it just arrived many years ago. My neighbour had one a few gardens down the line. It was end of March/beginning April when some unknown leaves began to grow in the garden. Had I been attacked by a Triffid?
Triffids were an science fiction figment of the autor John Wyndham’s imagination and the book was a success. The Day of the Triffids. The Triffids began to grow in the garden, in the fields, everywhere until they were mature enough to pull up their roots and walk, or something like that. As my mysterious plant remained where it was I realised I was not under attack by a virus and so I let is grow and develop. Eventually it flowered and I was happy. It flowered in the wrong place, in the wrong garden, so when it had finished its flowering days, I gently dug it up and shifted it to somewhere suitable. It seemed to resent this move and I felt a distinct tugging on the roots and heard a plantiff scream. I wiped the blood away from the scratchand bite on my hands.
This was many years ago. My bleeding heart began to bleed again and sent its seeds into the wind once more, a little further down the garden. This time the wind had spread the dust of the seeds in a definitely wrong place, amongst the branches of the hedge. At the moment full in flower, but it will again be moved in a flower bed next to a miniature rose bush I have. I told the plant of the impending move, but he said nothing, so it seems to be OK with him or her.
By the way, did I mention that we have had this prompt before in many disguises? Here is a link to the last one I wrote.
Kick The Bucket
This bleeding heart plant was dust in the wind. I never planted it, it just arrived many years ago. My neighbour had one a few gardens down the line. It was end of March/beginning April when some unknown leaves began to grow in the garden. Had I been attacked by a Triffid?
Triffids were an science fiction figment of the autor John Wyndham’s imagination and the book was a success. The Day of the Triffids. The Triffids began to grow in the garden, in the fields, everywhere until they were mature enough to pull up their roots and walk, or something like that. As my mysterious plant remained where it was I realised I was not under attack by a virus and so I let is grow and develop. Eventually it flowered and I was happy. It flowered in the wrong place, in the wrong garden, so when it had finished its flowering days, I gently dug it up and shifted it to somewhere suitable. It seemed to resent this move and I felt a distinct tugging on the roots and heard a plantiff scream. I wiped the blood away from the scratchand bite on my hands.
This was many years ago. My bleeding heart began to bleed again and sent its seeds into the wind once more, a little further down the garden. This time the wind had spread the dust of the seeds in a definitely wrong place, amongst the branches of the hedge. At the moment full in flower, but it will again be moved in a flower bed next to a miniature rose bush I have. I told the plant of the impending move, but he said nothing, so it seems to be OK with him or her.
By the way, did I mention that we have had this prompt before in many disguises? Here is a link to the last one I wrote.
Kick The Bucket
However, no problem, we will probably get it again this year. These bucket lists are all over the place. I have written my obituary and held my Eulogy many times in WordPress. Do they have a death wish? Will I be found at my computer, killed by an electric impulse caused by logging into my WordPress site? Now I know why they keep asking me to do a two-step authentication. They want to be sure that there will be no mistakes when I go and that they make the right choice with the name and password. I really think I should stop making remarks on the “The Daily Post Has a Great New Look” posting or refrain from making verbal attacks in the Forum about the missing Pingback link.
Yes they can be ruthless with their random attacks. Perhaps we should now take a two minute silence in remembrance of the Pingbacks which have now made a transtition into the dust in the cyber wind, never to be seen again, unless we all club together and all put it as No. 1 position on our bucket list “Bring Back the Pingbacks”. When I think of the new bloggers, people that have recently joined the fold, that have never known the sensation of pingbacking, making a connection to other bloggers and dropping a calling card I feel sad to my very heart (yes I have one).
But enough of this dismal prompt on Easter Sunday. Did you find your Easter eggs, did the Easter bunny call by and shower you with chocolate goodies? He left me out this year or I was probably sleeping recovering from the antics of Saturday evening (see my last Daily Prompt blog). I found a half-eaten chocolate egg in the fridge. Someone had already eaten the chocolates inside the egg. “What did you say Mr. Swiss? It was me, I ate them yesterday.” Terrible the tricks the memory plays on you when you approach the bucket list age. Today we feasted on lamb racks, soaked in a garlic rosemary seasoning and accompanied by pommes de terre sautées and macédoine de legumes – is more refined in French, much better than fried potatoes and mixed veg.
I will now go. As I have survived this daily prompt, I might even attempt a try at another bucket list, although I think I have done it all. Of course my fiery night with Brad Pitt never occurred, but who needs Brad Pitt.
See you all tomorrow with a new, enterprising daily prompt. I am so excited, I cannot wait for the next grid with new and exciting suggestions to write about.
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