You may or may not know that I currently work as a driver for people with disabilities. It's a nice job, but the downside is, my clients are somewhat more likely to die than the average construction worker or truck driver. (Though as to that, when I was driving in Alberta, there were drivers dying every week. It's a real bloodbath down there.)
Accordingly, one of my favourite clients died last Wednesday, December 14. She was 87 years old and had been widowed only five months, after 69 years of marriage. If you're into TV, you may be interested to know that she was the mother of Joe from Ice Pilots NWT. Because my life is that cool.
Why am I telling you this? Because the same day, my Adansonia za seed sprouted, after three other seeds failed and this one had been in the soil for two months.
As you know, I only consider a plant "sprouted" once it has broken the surface. This seed, however, was planted way too shallow, so it broke the surface when it had not even half an inch of root. And this is lucky, because it had white mold all over its shell. Because it broke the ground early, I was able to see it, wipe off the mold, remove the contaminated soil, and bury it again. But as the root kept growing, it kept pushing out of the soil, so I kept having to heap more soil over it. I though it would die for sure. As of today, though, it's still growing, and now the shell is split and you can see the baby leaves getting ready to emerge. In a few more days, it should be able to right itself and become a bona fide "sprout" rather than just a seed with a root.
But the thing is, because it sprouted the day Bertha died, I have formed a mental association between the two. Now it's like the baobab is a reincarnation of Bertha, or a memorial, or somehow a continuation of her spirit in baobab form. Now if it dies, I'm gonna feel like I let Bertha down. And it's rather likely to die, I should think, seeing as it's a tropical tree hatching in 60 N latitude on or around the winter solstice.
Nope, no pressure at all...
Accordingly, one of my favourite clients died last Wednesday, December 14. She was 87 years old and had been widowed only five months, after 69 years of marriage. If you're into TV, you may be interested to know that she was the mother of Joe from Ice Pilots NWT. Because my life is that cool.
Why am I telling you this? Because the same day, my Adansonia za seed sprouted, after three other seeds failed and this one had been in the soil for two months.
As you know, I only consider a plant "sprouted" once it has broken the surface. This seed, however, was planted way too shallow, so it broke the surface when it had not even half an inch of root. And this is lucky, because it had white mold all over its shell. Because it broke the ground early, I was able to see it, wipe off the mold, remove the contaminated soil, and bury it again. But as the root kept growing, it kept pushing out of the soil, so I kept having to heap more soil over it. I though it would die for sure. As of today, though, it's still growing, and now the shell is split and you can see the baby leaves getting ready to emerge. In a few more days, it should be able to right itself and become a bona fide "sprout" rather than just a seed with a root.
But the thing is, because it sprouted the day Bertha died, I have formed a mental association between the two. Now it's like the baobab is a reincarnation of Bertha, or a memorial, or somehow a continuation of her spirit in baobab form. Now if it dies, I'm gonna feel like I let Bertha down. And it's rather likely to die, I should think, seeing as it's a tropical tree hatching in 60 N latitude on or around the winter solstice.
Nope, no pressure at all...
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