A crime of passion

I confess: I killed her.

And it wasn't even a quick and decisive end. It was a slow, torturous two-year process.

But it was a crime of passion. Really...

The moment I saw her growing in a fellow gardener's yard, I knew I had to possess a 'Carol Mackie' Daphne for my own.

I'd heard that she could be fickle, so I amended the bed. And then I amended it again. I planted her high. But in my heart, I knew that it was never going to work out between us. Even the nursery worker who helped her into my van asked if I'd had a good relationship with a Daphne before. But would I listen? No.

I did my best to make her happy. But in the end, the critics were right. Now there's nothing left but a shell of what might have been. No creamy-edged leaves. And certainly none of the delicate pink flowers or the delightful signature scent for which Carol is pursued.

I am left alone to contemplate the error of my ways...

And to search for a new temptress who can make me forget I ever heard the name 'Carol Mackie.'