Deadheading plants is a lot like taking inventory of my slave boys. If you are not helping the plant, assisting it to live a richer, fuller life, you’re out. You get cut off, thrown into the lawn and replaced by another.

On a breezy, summer’s day in dappled sunlight, I deadhead my hanging geranium. The wind ruffles my shirt, cars drive by and while you stare, mesmerized by my ass in your face, ask yourself, are you contributing or are you a deadhead?