A Letter of Apology to My Garden

Look, I put you in the ground. What more do you want?

Bev Potter
3 min readJun 20, 2024


Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

Dear flowers and vegetables I planted this year:

I’m sorry I never learned your names. I know you come with those little plastic stakes that have your picture and your species and your genus or whatever printed on it, like a mug shot.

And I did stick the little piece of plastic in the ground where I planted you. But the wind must have blown it away, or a chipmunk took it to line its nest or whatever chipmunks have. Dens? Burrows?

I hate chipmunks. They leave walnuts all over my yard and I’m going to turn an ankle or trip and die because of a chipmunk. Like, take your walnut and go. Eat it, bury it, I don’t care. Just do something with it. I’m not cleaning up after you. I’m not your mom.

I’m fine with the tomatoes. I know what a tomato is. Even though deer are going to eat them despite the fact that I spray the area religiously with “Deer Be Gone” or “Go Away Fucking Deer” or whatever it’s called.

It’s 90% coyote pee and the deer are like, “We’re not stupid. Frank, do you see a coyote? I don’t see a coyote.” Chomp.

And tomatoes don’t need a lot of water — I read somewhere that you should actually…



Bev Potter

Legal secretary by day, insomniac by night. Ally. BA, MA. Humor, pop culture, and things that make you think. My weekly-ish newsletter is