The tragedy of the murdered four o'clocks

In our writing group last week, we tried a one-leaf writing exercise get our creative juices going. I chose the one that said to describe something you can see outside your window. The only thing I could see, apart from perfectly ordinary tables and chairs with nothing on them, was a rather depressing potted plant. This is what I wrote:

...There's a large terra cotta planter outside. The sides are chipped and stained by years of rain and the occasional cigarette butt. Inside is the corpse of a flowering plant. The straw-colored stems rise side by side from the damp soil. They all lean the same direction, as though all bowing in shame before the same master. The leaves, now black and shriveled, hang far over the side of the planter. It looks like at any moment, the stems might admit defeat and let them go.  Maybe they died like that, clinging to their last shred of pride and beauty. The freeze must have come suddenly and without warning. There were none of the usual signals telling the stems to drop their leaves and bed down for the winter.  Beside them in the dirt, a colorful sign lies face up, showing off the splendid yellow, white and pink blossoms that once adorned this sad plant. That little sign is the only splash of color nearby, drawing the eye away from death and despair to the hope of what might live there again someday...

I hate to see planters, pots or flower beds full of dead plants. A dead plant is tragic. It suggests neglect, even if there was absolutely nothing its caretaker could have done to save it. I would much rather the pot be empty. An pot full of soil is  a wonderful thing. It speaks to me of promise and potential, offering itself as a cozy, protective home for whatever perfect baby plant with which I decide to entrust it. 

This has been a great week to get outside and work in the yard, so that's where the majority of my time has gone. Both my front and back  yards have been terrible eye sores all winter long, and it's great to finally make some progress. Before I can have green plants and pretty flowers, I have to cut away all the dead stuff that accumulated over the last few months. 

This is what most of the plants in my front yard look like now.

Almost all of my brave little pansies were killed in the cold spell, and their pots will have to be filled with something else.  I can't wait to have spring again!