Flowers were the goal. A beautiful deep shade of red or pink with a rich scent accompanying each bloom. A rose bush, found, and brought home. Carefully planted in a large planter and watched daily for new leaves. It was strong and soon had grown over a foot.
Excited with the prospect of blooms, it was watered it daily. The bush seemed to just soak it all up and so, one happily gave in. More and more water until one day it seemed a little droopy. It must not be getting enough, so instead of one cup, two were give and the water kept pouring. Days passed and it still seemed to droop but not one to seek out why the water was continually poured over.
One morning it was decided that the location must be the problem and so the pot was picked up to move be moved somewhere else. As the pot was lifted a sound was heard slosh, slosh, slosh. In denial the pot was put down and searched for the noise but it couldn't be found. Once again the pot was lifted and once again the sound was heard. Realization dawned on the silly gardener. The slosh was coming from the pot and the rose had drowned.
I'm a lifestyle blogger, covering deep subjects including body images, battles with food, and overcoming how I was raised. I try to be as authentic as possible and I don’t sugar coat how I see things.