You had heard about her landscaping woes already but unfortunately the botanical hand wringing continued unabated. Imagine Peacock Pavilions nestled in among olive trees and scorched earth. Oh dear. The blogging girl had to, had to, find a landscaper. It was urgent. She placed all her bets on the annual garden show, Jardin d'Art, taking place in Marrakech.
When attending the show, six-year old Skylar suggested that they dress up as flowers in order to attract landscapers.
When the flower get ups didn't work, she tried drawing attention to herself by wearing a fantastical garden hat and murmuring the names of plants under her breath while milling through the crowd..... But everyone just ignored her.
The blogging girl then tried questioning a particularly attractive plant (surely, surely, she would know a landscaper) .... but the plant just flung a long flowered tress over her shoulder and answered melodramatically: a garden without a landscaper is like the night sky without the moon....
She then tried starting up conversations with complete strangers (who might just be landscapers) in the garden show's charming cafes.... but people just thought she was odd and moved away.
She even asked the fellow behind the beautiful tiled counter if he wouldn't happen to be training as a landscaper, would he? (Kind of like Hollywood where all the waiters are really actors)..... He replied no, but said he was an expert chicken sandwich maker in case she needed one of those.
All seemed lost. So the blogging girl went home and wept into her lone cactus (who put up with this sort of appalling watery behavior on a regular basis).
That night she dreamt that she was peering through an intricate garden gate behind which grew potted rows of night jasmine, and acres of lemon and fig trees. She rattled the gate but it was locked. She then tried calling out, Helloooooooo......Is there anyone home...? But all she heard was the sound of her own voice echoing faintly over the vast terrain.
