Charles Goodrich chose three winners from the Garden Noir entries. Thanks for playing, everybody! Here's our winners:
Mary wrote the most authentic gumshoe caper:
I spotted her pouting face among the pots of generic shrub roses at the
local Home Depot. The sultry red petals, the sassy curves of her stems.
I slipped a hand into her dewy foliage to check the tag: Rosa ‘Dolly
Parton’. Figures. A hybrid tea. What was a dame like her doing in a
joint like this?
“What’s a dame like you doing in a joint like this?”
She didn’t answer. A petulant little thing. But I couldn’t take my
eyes off her voluptuous red blooms.
“I’ll be you’re a lotta trouble, eh Doll?” I said, taking a closer
look. Yup. Already a hint of black spot. Traces of rust. And leggy.
I should’ve just walked away. Yeah, I knew better. But a hybrid tea
like her doesn’t just drop into your life everyday, not with giant
corollas like that.
The dame was coming home with me.
Elizabeth wrote the ickiest true adventure:
My tale is probably more out-and-out horror. One fine day as I was
working in the compost pile, I uncovered a great many green fruit beetle
larvae, which are huge, ugly, awful slugs. For some reason, my
daughter (then 5) took to them, and didn't want me to toss them on the
driveway for the mockingbirds, as we normally do. So I tossed them in a
bucket, thinking I would get rid of them once she forgot about them.
Along came my dog, who took one look inside the bucket and couldn't
believe his good fortune. He gobbled them all up. Shrieks of horror
and cries of murder ensued. My skin still crawls to think of it. My
daughter still doesn't trust the killer dog around her odd garden pets.
And Emily wrote the most cold-blooded escapade:
My neighbor attended a seedling exchange at work this Spring. She gave
her extra seedlings to my father, who freely admits he knows nothing
about gardening. He planted these seedlings in the vegetable garden and
then confessed he'd lost the markers in the process.
"Don't worry", I said. "If they produce any edible vegetables surely
we'll recognize them when we see them." And so this year we have grown
things I wouldn't normally grow…yellow squash (I'm the only one in the
house who will eat them and there are only so many I can eat),
cucumbers and a few plants that we were never able to identify.
Recently I was ripping up what was left of the broccoli plants and I
said "what are those plants there. They look a lot like the broccoli,
but they're not". Dad said "I don't know. Let's just get rid of them."
As he carried them off to the compost heap, I thought they looked a
little like kohlrabi. A day later I found a wooden popsicle stick and
on it was written "KOHLRABI".
And that's the sad story of how I became a cold-blooded kohlrabi killer.
The mystery was solved too late.
Thanks for playing, everybody! Be sure to pick up a copy of Charles' book wherever books are sold. Would make a great gift for the gardener who has everything…