I love roses. It’s a bit early, but this morning I realized that it was time to fertilize. Thus began my annual stress of getting enough of just the right kinds of fertilizer for my roses. It’s an investment, but I hate wasting money on the wrong stuff. I got out my notes and reviewed what I needed.
As the day wore on, I went to clean out the bunny cage. See my cute bunny? She’s actually an evil creature with a wicked bite. I got her as a trainer fiber bunny. (Not much fiber, easier than an angora, and yes her fur spins up luscious when mixed with wool and alpaca.) As I was cleaning the cage, I remembered a friend talking about the wonders of bunny poop as fertilizer. It was one of those half-heard conversations that take a while for my brain to process.
I certainly had enough bunny poop to fertilize all the roses. (I’m a bad bunny mommy and the cage needed cleaning badly.) A bit of research and I discovered that bunny fertilizer would be delightful for those roses. No skimping this year!
While I was dancing happily around the rose garden spreading pellets of goodness, it occurred to me that there is probably a metaphor here. How many times in my life have I been shoveling out the manure dropped on me while struggling to make ends meet in another area?
Bunny poop. May be my new catch phrase for life.
We’ll see how the roses like it.