Destroying Your Garden of Victory

Destroying Your Garden of Victory

Even princes make the time to destroy their gardens.
Even princes make the time to destroy their gardens.

Winter is coming. Not in an unspecified amount of time, either. It’s coming, like, soon (ish). The days grow shorter, the winds howly-er, and the nights demand duvets. There’s not denying it, people. It’s time to Destroy your Garden of Victory.

… why destroy it? BECAUSE OTHERWISE WINTER WINS! If you do not burn your own house, and your neighbor burns it for you instead, does that neighbor then not win? But if you burn it first, and you stand beside it like a badass warrior, then you, my friend, win. You built the garden! Now you must destroy it!

So don’t wuss out – destroy your garden now!*

1. Have a Final Outdoor Battle

Nobody likes winter battles, let’s face it. They’re cold, blood gets all frozen, swords don’t wobble as effectively and the dangers of pneumonia are real. Plus, winter armor is heavy and uncomfortable. So, invite your neighbors for that final battle now! Be imaginative in how you taunt them to battle – remember, this is your last battle for probably half a year. Steal their sheep and sheer your flag into their side. Paint their fences an ugly color. Raise flags bearing insulting taunts. Just make it clear that the battle must take place in your garden and the winner gets the Victory Goat for the next six months. (Bonus: blood is great fertilizer for when you prepare next year’s Garden of Victory!)

Plus, this way, you spare yourself some potential trouble with killer plants.
Plus, this way, you spare yourself some potential trouble with killer plants.

2. Set Fire to It

This is kind of boring, but I feel I should mention it. I mean, it’s basic. Throw some fuel on your garden and set fire to it. Everyone does it. But it does work. Bonus round: if the battle doesn’t destroy your entire garden because your warriors are ridiculous beasts of victory efficiency, then burn your enemies’ bodies on the remaining garden. Also, try not to set your house on fire. A burned house is a non-winterized house.

3. Sell your Plants as Having Healing Properties

Did your plants actually cure your cold this summer? You can’t say for sure, of course, but you can say that the plants were there and your cold is gone. Sell them off at the fair and make some extra cash!

4. Form a Plant Cult

You’ve gotta be dedicated to this one, but it can pay off. Form a seasonal cult with the sole tenet of removing plants. Get your followers long compostable robes with big pockets for plants. Tell them that to worship is to hug a root. Ban orgies (trust me on this one).

5. Fortify for the Winter

This is what we did at my place. We pulled up all of our stones to fortify our house (we’re still working on it). You effectively kill all of your plants pulling up your stones, even if your roommate is telling you not to kill the lilies. This, of course, relies on you putting down stones in the spring. Plan ahead.

Bonus: Should there be a winter attack on your home, you’re ready!

This is our rock pile. This is where the enemy will stop. As long as the enemy doesn't go around it or over it, we'll be just fine (note to self: steal neighbors' rocks).
This is our rock pile. This is where the enemy will stop. As long as the enemy doesn’t go around it or over it, we’ll be just fine (note to self: steal neighbors’ rocks).

6. Lay Down Your Old Chainmail Bikinis

Let’s face it ladies, chainmail bikinis aren’t good winter wear (they rust and come with hypothermia warnings), and the fashion is never the same in the spring anyway. Long or short? Chain or plate? More nekked or less nekked? And who would want to be caught dead in unfashionable bikini-wear? Perish the thought. But, there’s no need to just throw out your well-loved questionable armor. Lay it flat on top of your plants before the first snow. The chains will smother the plants, and the rust will take care of the rest. (We at Black Gate magazine believe in reusing and recycling.)

I’m sure you have other great ideas for killing your garden. Share them, please! And stand gloriously victorious before your murdered garden! Show Winter that you ARE the leader of your home! You are Victory! You ARE the Ultimate Garden Warrior!

*The writer of this post is in no way responsible for fines issued by the city, community associations, loved ones or public decency police.


Marie Bilodeau hates gardening, so she ripped the bleeding heart plant from her front flower patch and laughed as she clutched its dead roots in her hands. Then she put it back because her pro-plant roommate was holding the shovel rather menacingly. Spring will reveal how that turned out for the bleeding heart. (Note to self: hide shovel.) Marie destroys things in books, too. Info at www.mariebilodeau.com

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Aonghus Fallon

Having had to downsize from being Lord of the Red Deserts (& the Lands Beyond) to Lord of a small, unkempt garden in the rundown village of Karnuk has actually helped me appreciate the many corollories between being a merciless despot and an effective gardener. Flowers, like citizens, must be schooled in the art of obedience. Any encroachments by interlopers must be ruthlessly dealt with. And so on and so forth. And sometimes (just like you say) one must sacrifice one’s kingdom to prevent it falling into enemy hands. Take that, Dame Winter!

Ageless Falcon,
Formerly Master of the Red Deserts and the Lands Beyond,
& Acting Consultant for various mercenary groups

Sarah Avery

Ageless Falcon,

Hey, aren’t you that guy I attacked with a hatchet when you raided my village? I was one of the lamenting women.

Aonghus Fallon

That was YOU? Thanks a bunch.

A pair of working opposable digits are something of a prerequisite to your average roaming mercenary. On the other hand, I might never have become a despot, were it not for my shortcomings in this department. One door closes etc…

Sarah Avery

Tell me about it. If I hadn’t fled my burning village and taken a bunch of rash oaths, I wouldn’t be ruling a bunch of formerly independent city states with an iron hand.

Don’t get me started about how I ended up with an iron hand…


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