Carefully examine your rows. They must be neat to attract the fruit gods. Each plant must be firmly clamped to its neighbor, lest they grow restless. Pewter reproductions of dung beetles, liberally spread among the vines, will provide hours of entertainment to the salesmen, but be sure to spay or neuter any that fall in your web. Now lean back and enjoy.
Your garden is a reflection of your character. Do you have bats? Then let there be guano in the greenery. Do you shed tiny droplets of chloroform? Then by all means, obtain an ointment. Your neighbors are watching you, and they may pounce while you sleep. Lock up your tractor, but leave the keys wedged in an orifice; this will bring good fortune and cavities.
The ancients have a word for the harmony of the garden, but it is rude. Do not let this dissuade you. Carve fringes into your leaves for a Western look. Rub the seedlings with balm to make them sweat. The possibilities are yours for the asking, if you have a stamped self-addressed envelope, and there is no substitute for a good piece of veal. Pound it gently as it floats, shimmering, down into the bin. Do not mar its delicate course, or you will be afflicted with sores. I warned you.
After the shooting pains come, and the frost coats your ankles, your garden will be there, softly whispering the football scores, and awaiting the day when you bless it with dung. Don't disappoint it.