Barren
Disclaimer: Tolkien's dirt.
"…Ever black and bare was the ground where the beast was burned."- Lord of the Rings, The Return of the King.
I fell in love with the house from the start: a quaint little place it was, in a good, quiet part of town. The neighbours were decent, and the garden well-kept, except, of course, for the black patch of earth sticking out bare and obvious to the left of the garden path. At the time I thought nothing of it- merely making a mental note to buy some grass seed to grow over it.
So I bought the place and was settled in nicely when I remembered my mental note and bought the seed. Several months later, everything about the place I had wanted to fix had been fixed- except for that stubborn area of ground. It seemed the seeds hadn't caught.
Instead, I dug up the earth a bit and planted some lilies, which my mother had always said were hardy and easy to grow. Strangely, they all died and rotted away within a matter of days. I'm sure I watered them well enough…
It seemed a shame that all the rest of the lawn grew so nicely except for that one, irritating, spot.
Resolved, I bought a birdbath and some terracotta pots to put around it, covering the bare ground affectively. But all the plants in the pots died soon after, and the bird-bath… well, I had seen my neighbour's cat drinking from it, only to hear that it had died the next day…and found several deceased birds which had also drunk from it.
Perturbed, I removed the pots and birdbath. What else could I do? I was determined to be rid of that scar in my garden, yet I had run out of ideas…unless…
I had the ground concreted and built a gazebo.
At last, I was free of that barren piece of ground and could enjoy looking out at my unspoiled garden. I never did find out why nothing would ever grow there…