Alas, Mr. Green Jeans was never meant to bear fruit. The same warmth and steam that sprouted him from his tiny seed also brought about his untimely end. With each cycle of the dishwasher he got weaker and since Mama does not do dishes by hand if she can help it, the little fighter had to be moved or die.
I took a good look at the origin of the seedling and determined that it could not be transplanted. There was nothing to dig up. His soil amounted to nothing more than an apple peel and some crumbs. With a heavy heart I gently removed Mr. Green Jeans from his home and returned him to the earth out in the back yard.
It was for the best.
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