They're dead, Jim

Readers, I tell you this with a heavy heart: All of my transplanted plants are dead save one. I've watered them, exposed them to moderate sunlight, sung to them -- nothing worked. Their poor little leaves will never again know the pleasure of converting carbon dioxide, water and solar energy into glucose, oxygen and a small amount of water. They will lie in state on my balcony until a suitable time has passed.

Today a conclave consisting of a copy editor and a student met in the Albertson's near my home and elected a new set of plants: mint, basil, echinacea and zinnias. They will be installed as soon as the old plants have been laid to rest.

Rock and Roll Grammarian asks that you wish these plants all the best in their new positions on the bookshelf.