I don’t believe it. The human female, disregarding the indisputable statistics regarding prior efforts in the garden, has taken her birthday money to the nursery and purchased
sacrificial victims and is planting them.
I’m not saying the flower beds around the house couldn’t do with some sprucing up. Oh, they most certainly could, but there’s not enough sprucing on Midgard to turn this
into anything respectable. Yes, the lawn is looking green, but that’s just WEEDS.
Come, Sigyn, let us meet the new arrivals before their too-brief tenancy is over.
We have some blue plumbago. Careful, dearest. The little hairs around the flowers are very, very sticky!
It’s pretty, but blue is not really my color.
Ah. I like green. The human female says this nondescript shrub will grow up to have hundreds of little, pale-pink flowers. I won’t like it as much then, but I have hopes that the bees it will draw will prove vexacious to the humans.
Oh, Sigyn, look at this one! The tag says, “flowering quince.” It won’t get very large, but you will enjoy those flowers, won’t you? No, I don’t know what you call that color. It’s not really red, it’s not pink, and it isn’t truly coral or salmon. In the end, I suppose it scarcely matters, as it is sure to lose what blossoms it possesses and die before we have to worry about it next year.
The human female has remembered that you like butterflies and bought some lantana, which she says will attract them.
Gold, which I prefer,
and red-and-yellow for you! I still owe her for my missing dagger, but since she has purchased in our colors, maybe I won’t smite these…