Mary Mary quite contrary how does your garden grow? With silver bells and cockle shells, and pretty maids all in a row. Well the neighbourhood gardens were doing very nice for awhile until wham! the attack of the St Clair Jack The Plant Ripper. In the dark of night armed with a flash light, shovel and a wheel barrow he lurks in the shadows again, creeping up on unsuspecting petals and rosebuds. Heartless, selfish, and without remorse he wanders the neighborhood looking for his next victim. Tulips, mums, daffodils, annuals and his favorite, perennials all live in fear, wondering, who is going to be next ? Sadly, they cannot escape his wrath. Without a warning, hack and slash, rip and tear, cut and bleed, it is over. The poor things, without mercy or remorse, are ruthlessly uprooted from their quiet sleep. With no one around to see or hear they are dragged off into the darkness to who knows what dreadful fate. I am not alone, garden lovers on Rushton, Pinewood, Wychwood, Humewood etc have fallen victim to his wrath.
This morning, on St Clair, I am up with the glistening sun. With water hose in hand and cheerfully anticipating a new blossom or two, I am struck with shock and horror. In my planter,where there was once a full, blossoming vision of beauty and innocence, is a deep dark gapping hole. I just can’t believe it. It is total madness. Who could have done such a thing? I am absolutely delirious with anger yet filled with sadness and loss. Hovering over the garden I can feel the Rippers weird and creepy presence. With all the recent heavy rain fall, it began to grow, fill out, slowly bloom, take shape and add its own colour and personality to the rest of the garden. Now it’s gone. I thought of all the people that pass by everyday and how they enjoyed its beauty and how it made them smile. I saw them stop many times to take a closer look, bend over close their eyes and appreciate its fragrance. It gives me great pleasure to have people stop for a moment, enjoy my garden and think of something other than life’s busy schedule.
Like fruit from the trees we enjoy their bounty. How terrible and selfish to carry them off to a lonely place where no one else could enjoy them too. All should enjoy, so come and visit my garden, sit on the wrought iron bench and relax. It is a beautiful place that will continue to make more flowers. As for Jack, leave the babies alone and try picking the weeds once in awhile. We are watching out for you !