At Your Service

I aim to please, dear Canna Lilly.

This is an excerpt from my diary. Click here for more information on this series.

May 8th, 2023

IT RAINED TWO DAYS AGO for no more than two hours. But I swear—I SWEAR—that two hours of rain of the sky variety did more for my plants than two weeks of rain of the hose variety.

My Hawaiian Tis (Cordyline fruticose), which I would say are now in middle age or the such, grew a whole new row of purple leaves overnight. It’s a welcome development, yes (they now look a little less like leaves on stilts). But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a bit miffed by this development.  

You know how much time I spend out in the yard watering these plants, flicking large carnivorous crickets of these plants, caressing the pubescent leaves that are sprouting at the base of these plants?

And two freaking hours of sky water and they decide to up and thrive?

And it’s not just the Hawaiian Tis. It’s the Tropical Hibiscus (Hibiscus rosa-sinensis). It’s the Canna Lillies (Cannaceae) of all subspecies that dot my yard – the Indian Shots (Canna Indica); the Golden Canna (Canna flaccida); the Tropicannas® (a crossbreed trademarked by renowned horticulturalist Anthony Tesselaar). It’s the Birds of Paradise (Strelitzia reginae) and its knockoff, yet faster-growing cousin, known colloquially as “False Birds of Paradise” (Heliconia rostrata). It’s the Split-Leaf Philodendron (Philodendron bipinnatifidum). It’s the weeds (Weedo clusterfucko).

Yes, the weeds; the weeds of many types and temperaments that coalesce to constitute my ‘lawn.’ I woke up yesterday to find a new type; the type that is apparently activated by two hours of Gulf Coast rain; the type that just pops up overnight in your yard to the height of like eight inches.

Like, welcome back, my dude. Haven’t seen you since October. Though, you never really had to leave. But you’re stingy, I guess. Hose water too unsophisticated for your palate?

Now that you’re here, though, you’re going to learn to like hose water. I’ll make sure of that. Rainy season doesn’t start for like another month or so, and the forecast for the next week is sun—all sun.

And just today, I’ve purchased a new hose; a longer hose; a hose twice the length of the one I’ve been using since last summer. Now I can get up close and personal to every plant in my backyard, instead of having to spray in the general direction of some, bounded by the dwarf hose that is stuck to the faucet. Now I don’t have to screw and unscrew that hose three times a day as I alternate from the backyard faucet that allows me to get most of the backyard; the garage-area faucet that allows me to get most of the remaining part of the backyard; and the side-yard faucet that allows me to get most of the side-yard plants, save the Hawaiian Tis, which thankfully are pretty drought tolerant because my spraying on the “jet” feature from far away is spotty at best.

AI-generated with prompt: “Overwatered Tropical Plants”

Out of this new hose will arise a new yard entirely; a yard that is well-fed, all around; a communist yard where the means of production are afforded in equal measure to every plant. Gone are the days of the capitalist yard, where the Areca Palms (Dypsis lutescens) and the Monsteras (Monstera deliciosa) and the Variegated Ginger (Alpinia zerumbet) and every other species that’s been lucky enough to live in proximity to a hose that still had some spool to give got the lion’s shares of the profits.

There will be no winners and losers in this yard moving forward. Just winners. And I’m not just saying that.

I’m not Stalin, nor Mao, nor Kim Jung-un. This will be real communism; communism that actually works and doesn’t result in long periods of famine for large swathes of the population.

If anything, an overabundance of food and drink will be had. The food will be covered by the Florida sun; a Saint Petersburg, Florida sun – the most consistently sunny sun in all of America. And the drink will be covered by me—and my hose (don’t), which will be made available to you all hours of the day, you just say the word. In fact, you probably will never have to say the word because I’ll be around to dole out refreshments, even when you think you don’t need it.

I’ll be like that overattentive mom who is always stocked up with—and prepared to distribute—Nutri-Grain® bars and Gatorades® for her son’s AYSO soccer team.

Only again, my responsibility is providing the drink – the Gatorade®, if you will. The sun is responsible for providing the food, ingested via photosynthesis.

But the clock is ticking. My challenge is to sell you on this hose water before the heavens open up. And if I see even marginal indications that you are taking to this hose water of the extendo variety, worry not! I will continue to serve you drink through it even when the heavens are also opened up. I will permit you to get drunk. In fact, I will facilitate it! That would be my greatest privilege.

The words “communism” and “abundance” can be used in the same sentence in the context of our backyard. It would just tickle me if you would allow me to keep serving you.