Ladies and Gentlemen, we are gathered today to bear sad witness to the untimely death of the first homestead garden. This garden, for which we all felt a hopeful affection, had a rough start. Through unbearable heat, torrential rain, sudden frosts, and unforgiving grasshoppers, the garden struggled to find root. Bravely, and repeatedly, it attempted to rebound from the harshness of existence. We all felt anticipation and hope in and for its future.
But nature giveth, and nature taketh away.
Ladies and gentlemen, the garden's valiant struggle came to an early end last week when sudden and torrential rain buried the sproutlings in new mud. And so, today we must pay our respects.
Garden, you will be missed.
But we must also look toward the future. For though we mourn the loss of those young, brave seedlings, we must learn the lessons of their short lives. We, who are left behind, must move forward into a future that, though it may seem impossible to envision today, does include vibrant, lush, and productive gardens.
And so, let me say this to our dearly departed, We will learn the lessons you taught us, oh first homestead garden. Your struggles will not be in vain. Thank you, for your bravery.
Now go forth, ladies and gentlemen, not with sadness, but with hope and plans for the future.
Now someone get me some 2x4s, topsoil, and compost. I need to make some raised beds!