[Critique Group 1] submission for 4/4/17 session

[sitting.duck at springmail.com]

This was rejected by Chicken Soup for the Gardener.
I have revised it and particularly welcome suggestions from any gardeners in the group as well as suggestions for improving the writing.
Cleora

While There Is Life
by Sly Duck
1043 words

I write this hoping there is no Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Plants.
A little before Christmas I went to a local department store to pick up some presents.  As the clerk handed me my receipt, she said, “Just show this to the man downstairs and he will give you your free Amaryllis.”
“Amaryllis?” I asked.
“Yes," she said. 
"What is that?" I asked.
"A Christmas Amaryllis. The store is giving one away for every purchase," she said.
"Oh," I said. I didn't ask anything further not wanting to reveal I had no idea what she was talking about.

Down stairs the man at the table assured me that everything I needed was in the box along with detailed instructions.  
He then picked up one of the kits and handed it to me.
Terrific, I thought. I have to plant it.
Now, what you have to understand is that not only am I a rather incompetent gardener, I also have Retinitis Pigmentosa.  A condition that results in the loss of vision through the deterioration of the retina.  
I could see well enough to make out the picture on the box, but reading the directions would not be easy.
At home I found The box was a little large for the reader I have,, but finally I managed to get it under the lens and read the instructions as best I could.
Did I mention that my memory is not what it used to be?  
I read the instructions again, but still couldn't remember everything it said to do.  Finally, I decided all I really needed to remember was how to pot the plant, and that part seemed pretty straight forward.  I took a deep breath and open the bag of potting soil.  Soon I had the bulb properly positioned in the white container provided and surrounded by the potting soil.  I even went out to the garage and retrieved a decorative pot, and after removing all trace of the last victim, I slid the plastic planter down inside.  Then I sat my treasure in a sunny place in the living room and waited to see what would happen.  
In a few days, a succulent green tab appeared on the side of the bulb point.  My joy was unbounded.  I picked up the pot, hugged it, and spoke encouraging words to my little sprout.
Almost overnight, two long green blades grew into place.  Over the next few days I watered it regularly and watched in awe as the stem shot up from the center and two lovely flowers opened to bring beauty and cheer to the room.
As the flowers faded, I accepted that it was time for me to do my thing again.  I remembered vaguely something about cutting off the dead growth and not watering it so it would go dormant.  Not wanting to make a mistake, I took the box back to my magnifier and tried to reread the instructions.  But, alas, this was one of those days that even with the magnifier, I could not see well enough to make out the instructions.  
Finally, feeling somewhat sick at my stomach from the effort, I surrendered and tried to proceed on what I could remember from the previous reading.
I cut the flower stem off and stopped watering the plant.  Several weeks passed, but the plant leaves didn’t wither.
"Maybe I am supposed to cut them all off," I reasoned.
Snip!  “Oops.”   The light green watery goo that oozed out of the amputated leaves immediately told me I had done the wrong thing.  Sorrowfully, I took the leaves to the trash and, after a moment of silence, dropped them in.
“But, that’s what it said to do,” I protested in my defense.  I took the box back to my magnifier and tried again to read the instructions.  (As if I thought it would make any difference at this point.  After all, it wasn’t as if I could tape the leaves back on.)
Oh, I was supposed to keep watering it until late summer so it could regrow the bulb, Then stop watering it and cut the leaves off after they withered.  THEN not water it and let it go dormant.
I felt terrible.  To make my guilt worse, later, when I turned on the radio, the gardening talk show was on.  The host was just saying, “… No, you never cut anything green off a bulb.”
Terrific, Now he tells me,” I could have just called the show and asked.
Secretly, I felt this tragedy would not have happened if I had only been able to see to read the directions.
In the months that followed, the brown, dry stump of the dead bulb remained as a constant reminder of my mistake.  Each time I would go to throw it away, I would set it back on the table, look at it sadly and leave it there.  
Besides," I rationalized. "It might still be alive.

When Christmas time rolled around again, I looked sadly at the dead bulb that had born such beautiful flowers the year before, and decided it was time to get rid of the unsightly evidence of my crime.  Purposefully, I went to the dried up remains of my victim, picked it up, and carried it to the trash.  Then I stopped.  Maybe it wasn't dead.  I should water it and see if anything happened.  I took it to the sink and thoroughly drenched the soil around the bulb, let it drain, and placed it back on the table near the light.
In a few days, a green succulent thumbnail appeared on one side of the dried up stump.
"It's alive."  I smiled broadly as I carried the plant to the sink and, once again, drenched the soil.  It grew rapidly and soon the too familiar blades appeared as before, and shortly I was enjoying the beautiful blossoms again.
As you can tell from various hints in the story, this is not my first attempt at growing things. Whatever your challenge, just keep trying. Success may be the next try. And don’t forget there are nurseries and gardening shows that will help you with what you need to know.