“A new vegetable garden should not be planted with such grumbling and complaining,” sternly advised the small faerie man sitting cross legged on our front porch table. “The new plants should be reassured when they are being set in the soil that you have picked out the best plot in the garden for them to be planted. New plants should be planted with songs and poetry, not grumbling and complaining.”
“I guess we did do a bit of grumbling and complaining,” I remarked, thinking uncomfortably about my wife’s and my vegetable planting a few days earlier.
He nodded, “And it did not boost the new plants’ confidence one little bit when you mentioned how last year’s garden died a dismal death in that very spot.”
“We didn’t say that,” I protested feebly.
“You might as well have,” quipped the faerie man. “But do not worry. I and the others have been talking to them, telling them they will be okay.”
“Thank you and the other faeries for reassuring our plants.”
“No problem,” the faerie man smiled, “but do not be surprised if, during the night, some of your wee plants pull themselves out of your garden and sneak over and plant themselves in ours.” Laughing, he suddenly vanished from the table.
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