The Plot, for Peat's Sake, Thickens

Katrianna's efforts in botany have led to the inevitable --- that's right, Sex Education.  Yep, she's discovered the Joy of Pollination!

The little Luther Burbankette is doing her best imitation of a honeybee and experimenting with cross-pollination in great earnest. Talk is all about anthers and stamens and the ripeness of the pollen. It's really been quite stigmatizing. She's become obsessed with all that is prolific in her plant kingdom.

As an added bonus, she  studied the fine art of "pinching back" and picks certain prospects for a little branching out inducement - there's just no stemming her excitement. She estimated this morning that she has over 1,000 plants in some stage or other - that includes sprouts, seedlings and all. It's likely closer to 100, but she is quite pleased regardless.    
 
Her amaryllis finally bloomed, proving my anxious worries that we had somehow chosen the one & only "dud" bulb were for naught. Indeed, it surpassed our expectations by producing six beautiful flowers, which she interpreted as an indisputable testament to her horticultural omnipotence. She then proceeded to reward her worthy subject by dismantling it, clipping it leaf by leaf, snipping it root by root, until she had reduced it to a mere replica of its former self, a light bulb. Her madness did have a method, however, for it allowed the dissection of one unfortunate soul - wherein she conscientiously adhered to the sworn principles of the Hydroponic Oath - but also uncovered several baby bulblets which she tenderly added to her nursery. I guess that'll teach her to be such a "cut up."

Lately, she's also been urging me to eat as much guacamole as possible - my parental pit-tance perhaps? No, simply a pit-ifully disguised desire for more avocado pits for toothpick skewering & observational purposes. So, now she's raising avocado plants - well, at least that's what they'll be if they reach their full potential, but at the moment they seem to be woeful underachievers who spend their time in stagnant wallowing and self-pity.

For Easter, she did surprise us all with magnanimous gifts of our very own personally decorated and exorbitantly scotch taped alfalfa seed packets, complete with homemade watering cans (paper cups with toothpick holes punched in the bottoms). Accompanying them were detailed instructional booklets which warned of the deleterious consequences of waterlogging, root overcramping & the exact technique for turning young plants regularly (which means on the half hour) toward the sunlight so they can perform photosynthesis. A staunch conservative in these matters, she expects the seedlings -once she's provided them a healthy environment- to make an honest living and earn their own food. 

But, with the exception of the paperwhites which emerged early and in showy profusion so they could have the pond's reflections all to themselves (they are so narcissistic), most of our backyard looks a bit seedy. Last week, Katrianna enriched the soil with peat moss, blackened banana peels and other organic fertilizers to sow lettuce, cucumbers, tomatoes, alyssum, sunflowers, cosmos & marigolds. She's also added a lot of Miracle Grow to her watering can as an antidote to revive the numerous shrinking violets and withering wall flowers.  Yet, she seems confident that she will ultimately sucseed and reap a plantiful harvest due to her willingness to get her hands (well, her gloves) dirty, along with her matchmaking 'natural selection' expertise.

Meanwhile, when dusk overtakes the remains of the daylight and forces her back indoors, she passes the evenings poring over vegetable guidebooks & flower encyclopedias in growing impatients for a bloomin' garden of her own.


Either that, or she plots in poetic couplets:
                                         by Katrianna

               Plants are nocturnal, they wake up at night,
               If you woke at nighttime, you'd be in a fright,
               To see plants who are running, plants in a hurry,
               Plants dropping their leaves in a flash and a flurry,
               Plants from your garden, coming inside,
               Plants who are humble, plants of great pride,
               The African Violet's running, thus,
               He's in a hurry to catch the bus!

[Poem reprinted here with her permission & her insistence that it is "officially quadruple copyrighted." Violators will no doubt be paid back in spades.]