Infinithree

I had read, on one of those infomemes that gets passed around, that even after tossing a bunch of celery into the refrigerator and pulling it out every now and then to chop off another stalk or two and gradually denuding the whole thing, one could actually regrow a living, healthy celery plant from the remaining stump and start the cycle anew.  So, when I reached the leafy center of my next celery purchase, I stuck it in a pot of dirt in the windowsill.  I named it Infinity.  However, it died.  Make of that what you will.

Undaunted, I placed my next celery stump in a wine glass of water on the kitchen window.  This was Infinitwo.  In a few days, Infinitwo decided which parts of its stump it was not going to maintain (they rotted into sog) and started putting out little root-filaments.  I changed its water every couple days, and then I potted it.  Infinitwo got some sort of infestation and also, I thought, died, although I kept it in its pot for the time being, and it has actually started to regenerate.

Anyway, when I thought Infinitwo was no more, I started Infinithree, doing the wineglass-of-water treatment for over a month and letting it grow an impressive hairball of roots.  Fortune smiled upon Infinithree, because when it looked rooty enough to be put in dirt, I had my garden plot:  Infinithree was going to get to be an outdoor celery.  I planted it, it looked happy, and then it got attacked by bugs.  I trimmed off the buggy parts, which didn’t leave a whole lot, but lo and behold, what remained was more than enough.  Here is the prospering Infinithree from a few days ago (note the leggy bits from its windowsill days!):

Like almost all of its neighbors, Infinithree has gotten a lot bigger and fluffier even in just the past two days.  This is the garden as of this morning, and you can see the pumpkins and radishes in particular are going berserk.

 I recognize that one of my greatest liabilities as a gardener is my sentimentality; since this is unlikely to change, I am just going to work with it.  I know very well that individual plants do not care too much, if at all, whether they make it:  they are cheerfully aggressive and take whatever chance they get, however ridiculously small.  And, I have pulled up plenty of weeds whose sin was no greater than simply having rooted themselves inconveniently for my plans.

With that said, I am pleased when I persist beyond sense to give a plant a chance and it pans out, as with Infinithree (and perhaps Infinitwo), particularly given that the heavens know often enough it doesn’t.  On the other side of my plot is a lone little butternut squash seedling.  It sprouted in promising enough fashion a couple weeks ago, but then it got chilly for a while and some marauding bugs did a number on it.  All that was left was one leaf and a gnawed-on stem.  To say it looked unpromising would be an understatement.

But, it didn’t wilt or fall over.  It just kind of…sat there.  For a week.  The leaf was still green, its stem still firm, so I figured, well, okay, this may be all this little guy ever does, but it seems to want to keep doing it, so I’m not going to kick it out of its square of dirt.

Today, it showed a flurry of activity around the gnawed part of its stem:

Yay butternut squash!  I am not sure what will come of it, but it is definitely still hanging in there for the fight.

This past weekend, a few of us volunteered to help plant seedlings in eight beds whose produce is designated to be given away (called the Grow2Give program).  There were of course some leftover seedlings, which anyone was free to take.  Some of us took a couple rescues, and the rest were put in the garden’s tool shed for anyone to have.

I fit in some kale, a sweet pepper plant, and an Amish paste tomato, which was really all I had room for.  Over the next days, people would take a foundling here or there, and the tray of free seedlings slowly diminished.  What is left now is only plants that really have no chance of survival even if they are coddled beyond all measure.  It just happens:  something seems to have eaten them (different somethings in each case) and so they do not appear to have the oomph left to carry on.

I know it is a matter of indifference to them, but I still tell them that their crèche-mates are doing well and carrying the torch forward for everyone who could go only this far and no farther.  I am sure they are pleased to hear it!