Cause of a fever, rather than a cure

WE set off for dinner. As we go out I become aware of something not there. The feverfew has disappeared from the garden!

I guess what's hapened. When we were ready to go to the Farmers' Market earlier in the day, Al, our gardener turned up. We left him to get on with it. When we'd returned from our shop, I hadn't noticed the disappearance of the plant. Clearly Al had decided it was a weed & had pulled it out. 

Sure enough, this morning I looked in the green dustbin. There, at the bottom, was the feverfew. I managed to hook it out. Al had pulled it up, roots and all. He'd bent the stem in two. I brought the plant inside. I've cut it neatly at the bend, where the stem was snapped. The top I've put in a vase, the root I've replanted. Heaven alone knows if it will survive this treatment. 

Only the day before I'd been thrilled to see the white daisy flowers opening up, revealling their sunny yellow centres. I'd expected to have weeks of pleasure looking at them. As they're perennials I had anticipated years of an ever growing plant, bushing ot with time. They're supposed to help cure a fever, not be the cause of a fever as I grow red with anger at their massacre. Al's in trouble when I see him next.

Al is in many ways a good gardener. He's done various courses at the local college. However, his main interest in fruit & veg, and you can tell. He will competently mow a lawn, trim a hedge, lob off branches that are getting too big. His plantmanship when it comes to things he doesn't regard as useful can be dubious. Clearly feverfew is one of his blank spots.