Dear Yellow and Pink Begonias,
When I got you, you were a bunch of no-name tubers from a catalog. I didn't have high hopes for you, and in fact, you were a bit slow. I'm not going to lie - I spoke sharply to you in May and June when you were a hopeless, spindly sadsack. Then, out of duty or fear or competitive spirit, you burst into bloom last week.
Now I feel terrible, having driven you hard like Joan Crawford in Mommy Dearest or one of those dreadful spelling bee mothers who makes her children read the dictionary. God help me when one day you rebel and go off the deep end, overdosing on seaweed and green algae fertilizer. I don't know what I'll do with all the guilt.
Love,
P.
