The definition of this word doesn’t techinically mean much until it has happened to you. If it has, you will understand why it’s so loaded with emotion that it’s of cuss-caliber. Here’s the scenario:
I planted a lovely garden. I excavated the bed, ammended the soil, selected and purchased the plants and dug a half a zillion holes to plant them. I watered and fertilized them. And yet- those plants look like they’d cough up a lung biscuit, if they could. They look sad and embarrassing, skinny and weak.
I know I did everything right. I cut no corners, I spent money, time and sweat. One day I heard the neighborhood squirrels having a rave in the neighbor’s yard and… Holy Juglans nigra. It’s a black walnut tree.
There is plant poison in all parts of the stinkin’ black walnut tree; the leaves that fall on my side of the fence in fall (and then can’t be composted), the walnuts that the squirrels throw at my dog, the roots that can contaminate everything 50 feet from the trunk. Even if I snuck into my neighbor’s yard in the middle of the night, dressed as a ninja, and cut it down- the toxins would last in the soil for up to 50 years…
The name of this toxin?
I now use this word for anytime I have my ducks in a row and it all falls apart anyways and there’s nothing I can do to fix it. Try it.
“Man, that meeting really jugloned up my day.”
“The head gasket blowing on my car is such a pile of juglone.”
“That guy like to make trouble- He’s such a jugloner.”
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