A true story. Sort of.
It started with weeds — tall, mean, and bold,
Refusing to die, too stubborn, too old.
But Jim Baker said, “Not on my watch!”
And launched a full-blown landscaping botch—
Er, project! Sorry, project.
The sprinkler pipes were placed with care,
Though actual water? Still... not there.
They lie in wait like hidden treasure,
One day soon, they'll sprinkle with pleasure.
New plants are in! Some green, some gray,
A few are thriving, one ran away.
But each little shrub has hopes and dreams,
In Jim’s wild vision of turf and beams.
He called this place his Green Island, true—
A land where crabgrass gets the boot, too.
Where mulch is thick, and weeds are few,
And every bush says, “How do you do?”
Justin from Tampa Turf joined the quest,
Armed with tools and a neon vest.
They trimmed, they planted, they fought with ants—
And gave Rodeph Sholom fancy pants.
But wait! We must give thanks galore
To Sisterhood — the heart, the core!
And donors, too, who gave with cheer—
You made this island less unclear.
Yes, Green Island’s still a work in play,
So please don’t trip or walk that way.
There’s beauty coming, just not yet—
(That palm is plastic. Let’s not forget.)
So mazel tov, dear Jim the brave,
Who gave our shul a garden rave.
With Torah learned and mulch laid wide,
He’s now a man — with landscape pride.
But hold your shovels — not done yet!
There’s more to do, more goals to get.
A rock here, a bench there, a flowering vine,
And maybe a path with aesthetic design.
But if you’re thinking, “Wow, this is neat!”
There's still time to help… complete!
Yes, you can help Green Island glow,
With one more gift to help things grow.
A final push, a mitzvah grand,
To put the “ahhh” in “landscaped land."
