Realities of American consciousness

[admin]

The following is from a long time customer. We felt it should be shared.
Michael

One of the saddest times I have ever experienced is when we sold our home in Myrtle Beach and moved to Conway. I love Conway, but the people who bought our home in Myrtle Beach, supposedly because of all the beautiful plants and most of them edible (like my June Berry’s I got from you too), immediately they cut down every tree to include the Persimmon which was loaded with fruit at the time), mulberry, June Berry, dug up some very expensive Iris and daylily plants that I had worked with for many years, my apple trees, even the weeping willow that had survived several hurricanes, and they bulldozed the lawn planted Bermuda grass where we had painstaking plugged St. Augustine every 18 inches years ago and had the most beautiful lawn in the entire place called Island Green. I did not cry, as I do not cry, but my heart was so hurt. I did not even dig up an iris or lily to take with me to Conway, so that I could leave them the beautiful yard that they had professed to love. They bought it sight unseen (they were in New York) with only pictures of our beautiful home and yard and gardens and trees, and they paid cash for it. The lady’s mother who lived near us sent them our flyer we put out. The house sold in 2 days after hitting the market (we sold it ourselves with great flyers we created) and we actually had several people in line in case this one fell through, but the people who bought it said they’d beat any offer we received for it, just let them know what was being offered and they would go $5,000 above that and pay cash.

I talked to her mom later and asked why didn’t they tell me and I would have removed some of my favorite plants, but she said they just didn’t want to worry about taking care of the lawn and flowers, etc. (by the way everything I had was perennial and came back year after year with no work, and the fruit trees had never required a thing). So now it is a Wiry old Bermuda lawn with a flag pole in the center and not plant or shrub one to be seen. I hope they love it as much as we did and I’ve had to let that one “go” many times over to be at peace with our sale.


Great blessings to you and to your creation of wonderful plants for people who love them.

J O’K (SC)

[Preston Sturges]

Heartbreaking, but oh so typical in a country that tears down historic landmarks every generation. Farms, businesses, all sorts of wonderful things last only a few years, and almost nothing survives the owners death unless there is a trust or foundation. If you're lucky, you'll outlive the thing you built, but you may also just have to deal with seeing it dismantled by someone that has no idea what they are doing, but they seem to have no other purpose in life except to destroy what you made

Michael at Edible Landscaping can tell stories about collections that were destroyed.

1 The words of the Preacher, the son of David, king in Jerusalem.
2 Vanity of vanities, saith the Preacher, vanity of vanities; all is vanity.
3 What profit hath a man of all his labor which he taketh under the sun?
4 One generation passeth away, and another generation cometh: but the earth abideth for ever.
5 The sun also ariseth, and the sun goeth down, and hasteth to his place where he arose.
6 The wind goeth toward the south, and turneth about unto the north; it whirleth about continually, and the wind returneth again according to his circuits.
7 All the rivers run into the sea; yet the sea is not full: unto the place from whence the rivers come, thither they return again.
8 All things are full of labor; man cannot utter it: the eye is not satisfied with seeing, nor the ear filled with hearing.
9 The thing that hath been, it is that which shall be; and that which is done is that which shall be done: and there is no new thing under the sun.
10 Is there any thing whereof it may be said, See, this is new? it hath been already of old time, which was before us.
11 There is no remembrance of former things; neither shall there be any remembrance of things that are to come with those that shall come after.