Mrs Jones’ mother grew exquisite carnations
in magnificent flower beds.
Mrs Jones grew gerberas, pink, orange, red,
with long thin petals, as her mother did.
She set up a rose garden
filled with sweet smelling flowers.
At Mrs Jones’ gardening circle,
so essential for compleat housewives,
women brought their best blooms
to each meeting, vying for prizes:
bath salts, boxed handkerchiefs,
or soft toys knitted by Mrs Smythe.
After some years of traditional blooms
the gardening circle derailed
with broad petalled gerberas,
fat carnations, and
unscented strange coloured roses.
Mrs Jones tried to keep up
with these trendy newcomers
and bought a dirty mauve rose,
unscented, called “silver”.
She tried to love her new
purple flowered tree,
but it changed its name
from lassiandra to tibouchina.
How could she love it now ?
Not a gardener at heart
Mrs Jones was so glad
when her husband retired and
took over the herbaceous border
along with the trees hedges and lawns.