A Joke Or Two 2025

That actually works. Tried it years ago but I only had one unit. You can give your plants a fertilizer drip!

 

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Today, my wife apologised to me for the first time ever...


She said, she's sorry she ever married me!

 

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A Joke for gardeners
A lemon, a potato, and a pea all had a tough week working at the grocery store so they decided to let off some steam with a bar crawl at the weekend.

They had a great time, hitting bar after bar, knocking back drinks, but being so genetically different, the alcohol affected them each in different ways: the lemon got very acidic and refluxy; the potato, being a big starchy chap, took the booze in his stride; while the little pea reacted to all the sugar and started to get a touch hyperactive.

At the end of the night, the three friends found themselves leaving a bar at the top of a tall hill, when all of a sudden the pea started bouncing up and down excitedly: "Lads! Lads! I've got a great idea! We’re all vaguely round in shape, let's not get a cab home, let's just roll down the hill!" and before the others could protest he was off - shooting down the hill at a rate of knots.

The lemon lurched after him, but soon started listing violently from side to side as he went, owing to his oval shape, which did nothing for his unsettled stomach. With a sigh, the potato trundled along slowly behind.

By the time the potato had bounced his way to the bottom of the hill, the lemon was spewing lemon juice all over the pavement, but the pea was already jumping up and down again "that was great, that was great, let's do it again!".

The lemon was now chundering up pips with the acid, but the pea didn't seem to care "Come on! let's go again" said the Pea "that was great!".

The potato turned to the Pea and said "Easy, Peasy --- Lemon's queasy."

 

I wondered where that was going.

 

Apologies for the length of this post but it made me chuckle when I first read it and thought it was worth a share with you all

GOD AND LAWN CARE
God to St. Francis: Frank, you know all about gardens and nature. What in the world is going on down there on the planet? What happened to the dandelions, violets, daisies and stuff I started eons ago? I had a perfect no-maintenance garden plan. Those plants grow in any type of soil, withstand drought and multiply with abandon. The nectar from the long-lasting blossoms attracts butterflies, honey bees and flocks of songbirds. I expected to see a vast garden of colours by now but all I see are these green rectangles.
St. Francis to God : It's the tribes that settled there, Lord. The Suburbanites. They started calling your flowers 'weeds' and went to great lengths to kill them and replace them with grass.
God to St. Francis: Grass? But, it's so boring. It's not colourful. It doesn't attract butterflies, birds and bees; only grubs and worms. It's sensitive to temperatures. Do these Suburbanites really want all that grass growing there?
St. Francis to God: Apparently so, Lord. They go to great pains to grow it and keep it green. They begin each spring by fertilizing grass and poisoning any other plant that crops up in the lawn.
God to St. Francis: The spring rains and warm weather probably make grass grow really fast. That must make the Suburbanites happy.
St. Francis to God: Apparently not, Lord. As soon as it grows a little, they cut it - sometimes twice a week.
God to St. Francis: They cut it? Do they then bale it like hay?
St. Francis to God: Not exactly, Lord. Most of them rake it up and put it in bags.
God to St. Francis: They bag it? Why? Is it a cash crop? Do they sell it?
St. Francis to God: No, Lord, just the opposite. They pay to throw it away.
God to St. Francis: Now, let me get this straight. They fertilize grass so it will grow. And, when it does grow, they cut it off and pay to throw it away?
St. Francis to God: Yes, Lord.
God to St. Francis: These Suburbanites must be relieved in the summer when we cut back on the rain and turn up the heat. That surely slows the growth and saves them a lot of work.
St. Francis to God: You aren't going to believe this, Lord. When the grass stops growing so fast, they drag out hoses and pay more money to water it, so they can continue to mow it and pay to get rid of it.
God to St. Francis: What nonsense. At least they kept some of the trees. That was a sheer stroke of genius, if I do say so myself. The trees grow leaves in the spring to provide beauty and shade in the summer. In the autumn, they fall to the ground and form a natural blanket to keep moisture in the soil and protect the trees and bushes. It's a natural cycle of life.
St. Francis to God: You better sit down, Lord. The Suburbanites have drawn a new cycle. As soon as the leaves fall, they rake them into great piles and pay to have them hauled away.
God to St. Francis: No! What do they do to protect the shrub and tree roots in the winter to keep the soil moist and loose?
St. Francis to God: After throwing away the leaves, they go out and buy something which they call mulch. They haul it home and spread it around in place of the leaves.
God to St. Francis: And where do they get this mulch?
St. Francis to God: They cut down trees and grind them up to make the mulch.
God to St. Francis: I have heard it all!

 

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@Star gaze Lily

 

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