A recent report from the Official Inspector of Rural Lines Instituted and Maintained by the Chinese Lantern Underground Railway.....
I am out in the garden deadheading roses and pushing aside this great vibrant growth in an attempt to clear the garden paths that were first such an important part of ny original penciled dream plan - beautiful artistic stepping stones (that I have since discovered cost an arm and a leg) winding through the garden, separating the delphinium from the bee balm and the roses from the lilies, - leading through scented plots of nicotiana and spidery cleome.
Alas, can you find them - these beautiful orderly pathways....
A marvelous garden for a cat's meandering, through shady undergrowth (chickweed) and errant sweet alysum that tickles a cat's whiskers with delightful fragrance.
After a great deal of staking and pruning it is possible to corral the most vigorous and splendid plants, but the shoots that dismount from the Chinese Lantern Underground Railway Stations and push their way up through daisies and peonies and poppies and any other plant that takes their fancy are impossible to control. They tower above the peonies and shade the Sweet William, and much as I love the beautiful orange lanterns they produce in the fall, a whole garden of them is just too much. Their railway lines are long, straight white pencil thin roots - miles and miles of them that traverse the garden, back and forth, back and forth, and sometimes crosswise.
It is a lethal Corporation, and one intent on establishing itself in the vicinity of anyone who innocently plants and tends this vagabond who goes under the name of Physalis. Well organized too, as I am sure the Company maintains an army of Inspectors who ensure that the line runs efficiently and enthusiastically.
I am led to believe this by a small scrap of paper I found in the garden whereon it was noted, in tiny cramped handwriting, that the Line was being vandalized repeatedly by a bedraggled human who searches out the various stopping stations and destroys the lovely green shoots who depart the train and who want nothing more than peaceful co-existence with the other inhabitants of the garden, and to light up their brilliant orange lanterns when Fall comes, and with it the more sombre colours.
Should I feel guilty?