The Story Of The Bleeding Bush... Poem by Frank James Ryan Jr...fjr

There was this bush outside my bedroom window.
I cannot tell you the name of the genus
as when it comes to arboreal affairs of the earth,
let's just say the term erudite cannot be honestly
included in defining the scope of my botanical
knowledge. Now this bush, though appealing to the
cameras eye each April, was also a source of
madness come the warmer days of May. For, you see,
this bush was God-kissed with brilliant color,
that lent beauty and eloquence to, at least the
very small area directly beneath my bedroom
window. The problem was, that when the weather
became too warm, I would open the window, and when
it was windy, the kazillions of mini red florets
would blow up against my screen and every time it
rained, these pestilent flower tops would run,
streak and smear the window panes, leaving the
appearance and impression to any passer-by's
that a ghastly homicide had been committed on my property!

Anyway, one year I decided I'd had enough of this mid-
spring crisis which lent much fodder to my neighbors
to conjure up a potpourri of hideous scenarios
as to what in hells name went on in my bedroom every
April and May.
So, I called a local gardener(who insisted
I refer to him as a Licensed Senior Arborist) to come
over and rip the damn bush from the ground, which
was something I thought I could do myself, until,
(ahemm) , the L.S.A. told me that this bush with the
kazillion red tops was deeply rooted and co-
rooted with several other friendlier shrubs. Shrubs,
that did not bleed and that I would not want to destroy.
So, the arborist went to work, and after Three long
hours, I heard him shouting up into my kitchen window.
''Little problem here, Mister Frank...you better come
out, we need to talk''.

So, now here I am thinking...what the @#! *&! ...
while doing math at the same time. And my math (
as they say) just did not add up, as Three hours
times seventy-five dollars an hour should not
add up to a 'Little problem here, Mr. Frank'!
Never the less, I threw on a T, and headed outside
to see what this licensed senior arborist wanted
to brainstorm about. Suffice to say that as I was
on my way to the scene of the problem, I had
Daliesque visuals of my entire lawn up-rooted,
or worse, a Noah's Ark scenario from a busted
pipe under this damn good for nothing bush.

Now, when I got outside and to the spot where the bush
had stood for some thirteen years of Spring, I saw nothing
but a smoothly turfed, vacant space,
where the flipping albatross of plant life once stood.
So, what's the problem, I asked. Looks like you
did a great job, so well in fact, I'd likely
recommend you to some friends. There was silence, and
this concerned me greatly. What's up, I asked again
as I looked into a pair of eyes that had blood-sweat
problems looking straight back at mine. Finally,
after thinking that I might have gone deaf from drama,
the arborist said, look, Mr. Frank, the bush came
right out of the ground in less than 2 minutes,
it was an easy job for sure. However, before chopping
it I needed to shake the bush to safely loosen it
from its attachment to the other good bushes, and in
doing so, several hundred of the flower tips dropped
their seeds. Okay, no problem, I said...just rake'em
up and we're done here, right? Well yeah, I guess you
could say we are done.You see the seeds that you can
see here on the lawn are not the only seed that
dropped...many more fell deep into the soil, directly
under your window. They take instantly to the soil
and once covered, as they are, they re-produce at a
rate of one bush per dozen seeds... How many seeds
penetrated beneath the soil I asked with a quivering
larynx. Uhhh, I'd say about two hundred, you know...
give or take a couple dozen. My God! That's at least
twenty-five bloody bushes! And then I lost it. Hey,
You...Gardener from hell...GET OUT, NOW!

And, the following April, just as I had feared,
my backyard was turned into its own vibrant version
of New York's Botanical Gardens. About a month later,
I called up the arborist and told him I was referring
his services to all my friends. In addition, I sent
him a Thank You note with a check for one-thousand
dollars inside it. At first the arborist thought that
my experience with the bush had left my mind woefully
imbalanced, and teetering on the cusp of terminal
lunacy. So, concerned, in fact for himself, that he
contacted the local police department and had their
'licensed'' dog-sniffing unit come to his home to
inspect the envelope for chemical poisons.
The next day, he called me by phone to thank me, and
at the same time confessed his surprise and confusion
to my actions, over a year later, no less. However,
after a I explained the specifics that took place
under my bedroom window over the past year...
he soon understood.

You see, fate and destiny can go in either direction.
For, what at one moment you might think was a Jokers
hand dealt to you from a Vegas stacked deck
could in reality turn out to be a Royal Flush!
I was stuck with this forest of florals, but one day
I saw an advertisement for an international garden
competition, with the 1st Prize being twenty thousand
dollars. And, guess what? That's right, I took
1st place...yes, me, and my multitude of bleeding
blossoms And, if that's not enough, I have a real, live
Licensed Senior Arborist who comes by every week
for pruning and maintenance for a fee of merely a free
lunch, and an hour or two of shooting the bull together.
And for the first time in my life I can relate to that
old proverb, 'A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush'
Well, I guess, in this case, two plus twenty three!
And the bird? Well, that be my friend, and Arborist,
of course!



©Frank James Ryan Jr./FjR
2015- All Rights Reserved