Dear Gladiolus dalenii:
I have this blog (an ugly word, I know), and a while back I hinted that something really exciting was going to happen in the little garden by the front window. That’s right, the one you’re in.
I was talking about you. You bloomed last year, and you were so spectacular that airplanes flying overhead slowed down to look at you. A huge spike of red-orange and yellow flowers, remember? That’s why I planted you, for flowers. Not just to sit there and look like any number of plants with sword-shaped leaves.
Yes, I know it hasn’t been raining, and the soil you’re growing in is not terrific, but that’s no excuse, because I can see that you’re five times bigger than last year, so–do the math–there should be five times as many flower spikes as last year. Not none, five times as many.
That was Blossom Booster I sprinkled on you the other day. So what if it probably expired in 1973? It’s the thought that counts. And you do get watered. Let’s see some action here.
the person who can dig you up and give you away if you don’t do what I want.