Wednesday, April 20, 2011


Occasionally we hear stories of the improbable: a burning bush (can we be certain Moses didn't actually see a Euonymus alata in its autumn splendor?), the parting of a mighty sea that allowed an oppressed people to escape to freedom (40 years wandering the desert constitutes freedom?! Are you kidding me?!), the resurrection of the dead (are we sure wolves--or Romans--didn't steal the body?). 

And this is the week when those items are discussed or honored.

Admittedly, recent scientific modeling that demonstrates the very probability of the parting of the Red Sea aside, the events strike me as, well, in need of additional empirical verification.

Well, the last two weeks have tested my doubt and I offer my own resurrection story.

Late last summer I reported on the discovery of the fatal Sclerotium rolfsii, a soil-based fungus that afflicted my beloved June Plantain hosta. (Side note: I really need to stop using that adjective, as all my lovelies in my garden are my beloved.) In any case, June was special. Her overnight metamorphosis compelled me to question my beliefs and my drinking habits. Kakfa, she seemed to say, was not crazy.Nor was I, she proclaimed: my morning martini was not to blame; rather, her genetic makeup programmed her to metamorphose. What a gal.

Well, upon discovery of the sclerota in June's crown, and in other parts of the garden, I resorted to drastic measures: shoveling massive piles of dirt into the garbage, spraying a bleach solution on everything, emptying my compost bins. That dire situation demanded extraordinary measures. Sclerotium rolfsii was my terrorist attack, and I became a George W. Bush.

Most of June had died, and the little bit that I replanted, having washed in bleach, was not in the best of health. June Plantain disappeared in the fall, and though I assumed she died, I always kept hope. Mad scientists, and morning martini drinking folks, do keep hope alive. Obama has no monopoly on hope, let me tell you.

During the last few weeks when the garden sprang alive, most of the hostas emerged from the soil (save for the blues, always the last ones to reappear), but June was not one of them.

Three recent, unseasonably warm, non-consecutive days, though, compelled the improbable: the resurrection of June Plantain.

And here she is, as of 20 April 2011, dressed in vivacious spring color!

Resurrection: you'd better believe it.

Which makes me wonder: did someone spray you-know-who with a bleach solution?

I know, I know, I'm going to hell....

No comments:

Post a Comment