RIP the garden

# A Eulogy for the Garden Hear ye, good gentlemen and gentle ladies, as we gather this day to mourn a most grievous loss—the untimely departure of yon Garden, that verdant sanctuary of both artifice and abundance, now departed from this mortal realm under circumstances most mysterious and vexing to the soul. Forsooth, what cruel hand of fate hath plucked away such magnificence? What jealous god hath conspired to wilt the very bloom of our contentment? We knew not the day nor hour when this beloved plot would surrender unto the great unknown, yet surrender it did, leaving naught but questions and a conspicuous brown emptiness where once flourished such splendid contradiction—a realm wherein the beauteous artifice of emerald turf did dance in perfect harmony with nature's honest bounty of tomatoes, peppers, and courgettes most divine. How shall we forget thee, O noble Garden? Thy artificial grass, that lustrous green tapestry of sophisticated horticultural deception, did gleam beneath the sun like the very verdure of paradise itself, requiring nary a drop of water nor a gardener's weary toil, yet standing ever ready to frame thy magnificent harvests. Those blessed tomatoes, pregnant with summer's sweetness, didst hang from their vines like rubied jewels; those peppers, in their variegated splendor, didst offer both sustenance and hope. Through seasons fair and seasons most capricious, thou remainest constant in thy duality—part honest farmer's dream, part ambitious decorator's folly. Though mystery shrouds thy final days, sweet Garden, know that thy memory shall endure eternal in our hearts. Thy strange and wondrous legacy—that glorious marriage of the manufactured and the miraculous—shall inspire all who dreamed of fresh salads upon a foundation of pure theatrical whimsy. Rest well in that celestial greenhouse beyond the veil, where artificial turf needeth not wither, and tomatoes grow immortal. Alas, alas, we shall not see thy like again.