The way the lavender plant’s spindly arms climbed up the sun streaming through the window was almost hopeful. Almost. She sighed and went back to her work.
i used to be a planter. not of plants, but of dreams. pots full of dragons and pirates, watering cans full of rain and fog. i used to be a dream planter. mason jars full of stars, petri dishes filled with fish and whales. i used to be a planter of dreams. where whales fly like birds, children swim with mermaids and sharks. i loved my job. until that one night, where i created a nightmare. sunlight faded, happiness disappeared. plants wilted and animals hid. she was alone, in the dark, scared and crying. she cried for help, cried and screamed for hours and hours, but no one came. i was forced to watch what i had caused. dead trees, black sky, low fog, and little Audrey, sitting at the base of the biggest tree, trying to coax a red fox out of hiding so she didnt feel so alone.
It had been at the back of the shop, already filled with compost. Small green shoots labelled beans. SHe’d brought it home, left the planter on the patio last night when the rain had come unexpectedly. A huge downpour. Now the clock by her bed said 8am but it was still dark. Rattling against her window huge green swirling branches. And a foot, climbing downwards.
I would like to plan many seeds and want to have a big farm with different trees and plants. Want lots of fruits and vegetable plants around. In middle of the farm i want a my big house.
Oneword is just one word its not 2 words. I mean its so foolish to write when you have landed on this website for the first time and you don’t know the instance of the website.
When I started looking for my keys, I never expected them to be buried in the planter. As I was digging them out I began to find all sorts of things: sweets, toys, and even the bones of a small bird. “Dylan,” I called “can you come here a minute?”
planters are rare these days, when all what people are looking for is lavish houses with artificial planters so that they don’t have to spend time for maintaining them. but what smell can the artificial planter give. the fun is in planting them, seeing them grow, talk to them , see the changes that they adapt themselves to in the seasons and learn from all those.
i’ve never had a planter but it’s always something i’ve thought that i could have in my room. i’ve been wanting to redo my room for the longest time, and given my propensity to boho-themed rooms, planters are always something i see hanging loud and proud, across pinterest room makeover pictures and articles. if i had a planter, what would it look like? i think it’d have monstera plants, as hipster as they can get. i’d like to have a few as long as no insects turn up in my room.
The planter was small, just large enough for the three plants which nestled between its chipped plastic walls. They were surprisingly different, though the consistency of the soil looked the same throughout, and the water level as well. One was a miniature tree.
i need to plant the small plants so for that they are called Planter. Who plants more plants then you can call them as planter. Planter will take care of all the plants which looks good
a planter not only plants for his own need but for the universe. While the product that he gets can be used by him & also by others, it has indirect good effects on the environment too. so, he is earth champion
it was drizzling that morning. Dark Grey clouds… damp grounds and muddy brown puddles. Yet a yellow flower bloomed on my plant! Who says there is no sunshine in monsoon- soaking in its warmth at my window sill, breathing in the known smell
it was drizzling that morning. Grey clouds… damp grounds… muddy brown puddles. And a yellow flower bloomed on my plant! who says there is no sunshine in monsoon- soaking in its warmth at the window sill
She was a planter. She handled plants all the time. It was her lifestyle. When she found aliens in her garden, they became her lifestyle. She used her magic to turn them into plants. Beautiful plants, plants that were never seen before. She won awards with her alien plants. She was a planter.
i remember in the car, over the pronunciation, bury, b e rry, brr ry, the lightning bear had his flowers ready, and picked them at me, and showed me fragrance. I chuckled at the label and played to aberdeers advocate, my seeds were palmed, stuffed in planters and hidden from even me. amnesia grants no amnesty, and my wandering eyes are shutting.
My mom used to have a frog planter that sat in our front yard. In was short and round like her. Every time she looked at it, it made her smile. Then one summer thunderstorm came through and, the winds knocked it over and cracked it in half. She still misses that planter.
The gardener put the lovely bouquet of flowers into the planter. The vivid colors caught the attention of everyone who walked by. He was proud of his small business, although it took many years to accomplish so little.
just to leave the substrate home like a phantom
without a way to delineate any traction,
struck out three times in high school,
suspended in a trifecta, thinking you pulled a hat trick
but realistically comatosed into believing your a maverick,
a few likes social media rammed you into thinking your immaculate….
I always wanted to be a farmer and a planter. I would like a huge 100 acre farm with lots of greenery around it. The house would be in the center and surrounded by lots of planters. There would be lots of fruit trees and lots of vegetable gardens and peace and tranquility all over.
Potty the planter was a small, queer looking man. Well that is if you could call him a man. He was more like a small dwarf. A small dwarf with Elvish features. He was very peculiar indeed and loved planting plants. He would walk along the edges of the enchanted forest and plant a seed day by day, slowly expanding and growing the size of the great big trees that towered over canopy garden.
The planter lay shattered.
It took me a few minutes to even figure out what it was. His eyes were blazing. It did not even strike me that he had hurled it at me and I had ducked instinctively.
It would strike me later that what shattered that day was my soul.
I’d never been much of a planter. Be it planting roses in the backyard or the seeds of an idea in another’s mind. But, Yashima, one could tell was not a novice to either. As she plowed the mud from an earthen pot, and sowed flower seeds, she spoke of withering buds, greying climate and how in her clan it meant a slowly approaching destruction. “Remember the boy consumed by a bacteria? I saw it on the news.”
“You mean the Zika virus?” asked the owner.
“Yes yes,” she added, softly. “He lived in the east. Not far from here.”
I went to Walmart to look for a planter for the back yard there were so many to chose from . I found the prefect one it was brown tall look like a vase . Brought some dirt
The planter shattered down below on the pavement after a few seconds. I craned my neck to see, just to make sure it was true, and it was. My mothers prized orange terra-cotta was in hundreds of little pieces, standing out against the black if the asphalt. And my she was coming home in exactly 6 minutes.
The idea of growing my own food is so appealing to me, but it’s also a lot of work, and I’m pretty lazy. My mum has just planted some petunias in our front garden, after the crazy rain we had yesterday, she said: “Oh good, they didn’t get washed away.” I wondered, what patience and dedication my mum has, to plant something despite the fact that it could be so easily destroyed.
I was there to pioneer new inventions,
even though hedonistic intentions relentless,
everybody has their own space,
their own energy, that’s relentless,
that’s bent less,
I rafted into the notion,
that were all human,
in the same ocean,
just each to their own,
when it comes to paradigm, a hidden potion, between the planter,
of the zygomatic arch and maxillary movements.
The way the lavender plant’s spindly arms climbed up the sun streaming through the window was almost hopeful. Almost. She sighed and went back to her work.
i used to be a planter. not of plants, but of dreams. pots full of dragons and pirates, watering cans full of rain and fog. i used to be a dream planter. mason jars full of stars, petri dishes filled with fish and whales. i used to be a planter of dreams. where whales fly like birds, children swim with mermaids and sharks. i loved my job. until that one night, where i created a nightmare. sunlight faded, happiness disappeared. plants wilted and animals hid. she was alone, in the dark, scared and crying. she cried for help, cried and screamed for hours and hours, but no one came. i was forced to watch what i had caused. dead trees, black sky, low fog, and little Audrey, sitting at the base of the biggest tree, trying to coax a red fox out of hiding so she didnt feel so alone.
someone who plants seeds.
It had been at the back of the shop, already filled with compost. Small green shoots labelled beans. SHe’d brought it home, left the planter on the patio last night when the rain had come unexpectedly. A huge downpour. Now the clock by her bed said 8am but it was still dark. Rattling against her window huge green swirling branches. And a foot, climbing downwards.
I would like to plan many seeds and want to have a big farm with different trees and plants. Want lots of fruits and vegetable plants around. In middle of the farm i want a my big house.
Oneword is just one word its not 2 words. I mean its so foolish to write when you have landed on this website for the first time and you don’t know the instance of the website.
When I started looking for my keys, I never expected them to be buried in the planter. As I was digging them out I began to find all sorts of things: sweets, toys, and even the bones of a small bird. “Dylan,” I called “can you come here a minute?”
planters are rare these days, when all what people are looking for is lavish houses with artificial planters so that they don’t have to spend time for maintaining them. but what smell can the artificial planter give. the fun is in planting them, seeing them grow, talk to them , see the changes that they adapt themselves to in the seasons and learn from all those.
i’ve never had a planter but it’s always something i’ve thought that i could have in my room. i’ve been wanting to redo my room for the longest time, and given my propensity to boho-themed rooms, planters are always something i see hanging loud and proud, across pinterest room makeover pictures and articles. if i had a planter, what would it look like? i think it’d have monstera plants, as hipster as they can get. i’d like to have a few as long as no insects turn up in my room.
The planter was small, just large enough for the three plants which nestled between its chipped plastic walls. They were surprisingly different, though the consistency of the soil looked the same throughout, and the water level as well. One was a miniature tree.
i need to plant the small plants so for that they are called Planter. Who plants more plants then you can call them as planter. Planter will take care of all the plants which looks good
a planter not only plants for his own need but for the universe. While the product that he gets can be used by him & also by others, it has indirect good effects on the environment too. so, he is earth champion
it was drizzling that morning. Dark Grey clouds… damp grounds and muddy brown puddles. Yet a yellow flower bloomed on my plant! Who says there is no sunshine in monsoon- soaking in its warmth at my window sill, breathing in the known smell
it was drizzling that morning. Grey clouds… damp grounds… muddy brown puddles. And a yellow flower bloomed on my plant! who says there is no sunshine in monsoon- soaking in its warmth at the window sill
She was a planter. She handled plants all the time. It was her lifestyle. When she found aliens in her garden, they became her lifestyle. She used her magic to turn them into plants. Beautiful plants, plants that were never seen before. She won awards with her alien plants. She was a planter.
i remember in the car, over the pronunciation, bury, b e rry, brr ry, the lightning bear had his flowers ready, and picked them at me, and showed me fragrance. I chuckled at the label and played to aberdeers advocate, my seeds were palmed, stuffed in planters and hidden from even me. amnesia grants no amnesty, and my wandering eyes are shutting.
My mom used to have a frog planter that sat in our front yard. In was short and round like her. Every time she looked at it, it made her smile. Then one summer thunderstorm came through and, the winds knocked it over and cracked it in half. She still misses that planter.
The gardener put the lovely bouquet of flowers into the planter. The vivid colors caught the attention of everyone who walked by. He was proud of his small business, although it took many years to accomplish so little.
just to leave the substrate home like a phantom
without a way to delineate any traction,
struck out three times in high school,
suspended in a trifecta, thinking you pulled a hat trick
but realistically comatosed into believing your a maverick,
a few likes social media rammed you into thinking your immaculate….
I always wanted to be a farmer and a planter. I would like a huge 100 acre farm with lots of greenery around it. The house would be in the center and surrounded by lots of planters. There would be lots of fruit trees and lots of vegetable gardens and peace and tranquility all over.
Potty the planter was a small, queer looking man. Well that is if you could call him a man. He was more like a small dwarf. A small dwarf with Elvish features. He was very peculiar indeed and loved planting plants. He would walk along the edges of the enchanted forest and plant a seed day by day, slowly expanding and growing the size of the great big trees that towered over canopy garden.
I like planter. On my house, we have so many plant because my dad likes to plant thing.
We have jabuticaba, tomatos
The planter lay shattered.
It took me a few minutes to even figure out what it was. His eyes were blazing. It did not even strike me that he had hurled it at me and I had ducked instinctively.
It would strike me later that what shattered that day was my soul.
I’d never been much of a planter. Be it planting roses in the backyard or the seeds of an idea in another’s mind. But, Yashima, one could tell was not a novice to either. As she plowed the mud from an earthen pot, and sowed flower seeds, she spoke of withering buds, greying climate and how in her clan it meant a slowly approaching destruction. “Remember the boy consumed by a bacteria? I saw it on the news.”
“You mean the Zika virus?” asked the owner.
“Yes yes,” she added, softly. “He lived in the east. Not far from here.”
I went to Walmart to look for a planter for the back yard there were so many to chose from . I found the prefect one it was brown tall look like a vase . Brought some dirt
The planter shattered down below on the pavement after a few seconds. I craned my neck to see, just to make sure it was true, and it was. My mothers prized orange terra-cotta was in hundreds of little pieces, standing out against the black if the asphalt. And my she was coming home in exactly 6 minutes.
planter
seeds
of the insidious
trying
hoping wishing
grow
faster
the words typed out
typo tight faced
loose lipped
liars who lap this up
The idea of growing my own food is so appealing to me, but it’s also a lot of work, and I’m pretty lazy. My mum has just planted some petunias in our front garden, after the crazy rain we had yesterday, she said: “Oh good, they didn’t get washed away.” I wondered, what patience and dedication my mum has, to plant something despite the fact that it could be so easily destroyed.
I was there to pioneer new inventions,
even though hedonistic intentions relentless,
everybody has their own space,
their own energy, that’s relentless,
that’s bent less,
I rafted into the notion,
that were all human,
in the same ocean,
just each to their own,
when it comes to paradigm, a hidden potion, between the planter,
of the zygomatic arch and maxillary movements.
“Um…Todd?”
“Yeah, man?”
Sarah shifted uncomfortably in her lawn chair. “Why is that planter filled with plastic gnomes?”
“Oh, it’s my gnome crop. You like?”
She stared as he nonchalantly sipped his iced tea. “Gnome…crop?”
“Yeah, the gnome crop always comes in this time of year. I dig them up when they’re ripe and sell ’em at the Farmer’s Market.”