There are many gardens growing on Mount Olympus.
But mine’s the best.
Let me tell you why.
See, most people around here, they don’t know the first thing about gardening.
They just throw some seeds in the dirt and hope for the best. But seeds only grow if you water and nurture them.
You’ve got people so desperate to regain what they lost that they throw seeds onto dead ground, trying to bring life back where there can be none. No matter how hard you beat that black soil, it won’t give you what you lost.
Or they’re so blind to the damage they’re doing to fertile soil by planting dangerous plants, ones that act as predators to their neighbors.
Plants hurt too, ya know? And pain never leads to beauty.
A rose can’t thrive in bleak landscapes, no matter how you dress them up.
Gardening is like a science experiment, but one with a really delicious outcome. If you do it right, it’s got your name all over it. But if spend all your time writing your plans with a broken pencil, then all your name speaks is a warning sign not to touch your fruit.
And no matter how many weeds you pull or petals you prune, if your garden doesn’t sing your song then what have you saved?
If life isn’t beautiful, is it worth living?
I know everyone thinks my head’s always in clouds, like some sort of puppet dangling unused from its master’s string.
But golly, that’s just not true.
If you think that, then you don’t know me. You haven’t seen my garden.
But I’ve seen yours.
You can walk me down to your garden, but all I’ll see are wilted flowers and overgrown weeds. It’s like you’ve given up on life altogether.
But not me.
I know that even in Arcadia, there’s still hope. There’s still beauty.
See, the perfect garden isn’t about churning through your plant’s lifecycles like an endless wheel.
It’s about finding the beauty, finding yourself, in the ocean before you.
It’s not about the garden, it’s about you.
That’s why my garden is the best.
It’s like a little oasis in the middle of chaos.
The flowers are blooming, the vines are twisting around the trellis, and the little sprouts are just starting to peek out of the soil.
And right there in the center of it is a single rose.
Despite its delicate beauty, the rose is stronger than you think.
It can withstand harsh conditions, can bloom in the midst of adversity.
Even in the toughest of times, it stands tall.
And no matter how many weeds grow up around it, how many skulls lay around it, or how many chemicals people try to spray…
…it survives.
Not because it’s resilient, but because the gardener takes care of it.
It’s me, I’m the gardener.
That garden is my ring, the rose my dreams.
And by golly, no one is going to hurt my dream.
When it comes to my garden, whether it’s one man or twenty, they’ll never top it.
I may not know a lot.
But gardening?
Try me.