22 September 2007

Lamentations

I weep bitterly, O friends. I have rent my clothing and covered myself in dust.

My friend the gourd is passing away. I went out to meet him this morning, only to discover his leaves utterly wilted or otherwise dead, his vines altogether shriveled, and a terrible white growth covering his remaining leaves. It is a terribly tragic sight. May your prayers be with him. The gourds themselves seem to be alive, though. There is hope.

This line exists for symmetrical purposes.

3 comments:

maria said...

I am weeping, and maybe later I'll get around to gnashing my teeth. Poor gourd. It probably needs some sort of fungicide, but I've never dealt with those so I have no recommendation.

Thorvald Erikson said...

Those who are knowledgeable about such matter have recently informed me that the gourd is, in fact, a squash. All the same, it is terribly ill and needs love and care. I tried talking to it...

maria said...

Find a druid or a small dreature who will talk to you. It might help. I hope the squash isn't beyond assistance, because that would be tragic.