evenings at mission control i was wandering around the garden, checking my plant life when the fern spirit appeared, a green energy of strange knowledge and lore, you couldn't really see it clearly, it just manifested on peripheries, keeping itself elusive but its presence was obvious to me. those insects were making a racket, bleating away layer upon layer, i don't know what their score was, sex drive of sound, what a palaver all to attract a mate, it's a strong drive.
so the fern spirit is all dancing ethereally like something from yeats ireland and years long vanished. 
'what the fuck are you doing in my garden' i said.
i was somewhat bewildered it should decide to appear unannounced and in the middle of nowhere.
the fern spirits speak in whispers, information carried on the slight breeze, it's random if you hear what they say but i was fortunately standing upwind and the words were very clear, 'use some of that nitrogen fertiliser man, seaweed nutrition, we're jonesing for it.'
'uh yeah, okay, i can do that. whats the deal with that suff, you get high or something?'
'it's good shit mission, just score us some and we will see your okay.'
now i'm happy to help the plant world in whatever way i can, it's fucking duty bound as far as i am concerned but the fern spirit seemed to have an unhealthy addiction to my seaweed fertiliser, and as i attempted to catch a glimpse of him, i noticed he was a shifty looking spirit, with dubious motives that seemed to escape his form, but a deals a deal so i gave him an evening shot of seaweed fertiliser, i watered it down in a watering can and offered the fern a dose.
we all got needs i guess.