A few days ago, I noticed my lush and leafy philodendron was sprouting very unphilodendrony growth. I scratched my head. In bygone days, errant canary seed might have been napping here. But alas, we had to bid our melodious friend farewell some months ago.
The bright slim straps emerging looked like members of the grass family. Who were these Goldilockses? And how on earth did they get up on the windowsill and into the pot? There was only one thing to do: tug a few out and get to the root of the matter.
As you can see, I discovered these vigorous nuggets of purple sienna. Who would put these in my plant? And why?
Still, there was something familiar about them. I saw these somewhere recently. Then the answer popped. As had their companion kernels.
John and I had enjoyed some organic red popcorn recently, and clearly another little somebody found the unpopped fellows in our compost bucket and stashed them in the nearest soil to provide for winter.
This is a year like no other. In bygone days, the heralds of fall were bright yellow “School’s Open. Drive Carefully” signs. Mailboxes crammed with brochures and announcements of forthcoming shows and exhibits and galas. Department stores flashing fall fashions. Our landscape is quieter now.
Quiet enough to feel the wheel of the seasons turn in the palm of my hand.