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the pits
Nothing died this week. I'm pretty happy about that. I'm also terribly relieved to find out that Gayla is a vile plant-killer. Only, she's mostly not. Still, it's nice to know that even people who know what they're doing succumb to things like last minute plant buying temptations, poor growing conditions, and a bit of old-fashioned neglect.
I know that I've already talked about this in the kitchen seedlings thread, but I'm having a lot of trouble getting my avocado pits to sprout. I'm all tempted because I keep hearing about this plant with pretty purple foliage and I want one. Also, I'm always more impressed with plants that people have started from seeds and cuttings than I am with ones they've picked up already going. I have a cool story about this very thing.
My aunt's mother in law was an avid gardener and also had a variety of houseplants. About twenty years ago, she planted an orange seed in a paper cup and when it came up she put it in a larger pot. She just took care of it in a general way until her death. Her husband decided that he couldn't give the tree as much attention as it deserved so he donated it to a high school with a large conservatory-type area in the main foyer. My aunt said that she went to see the tree and it's now enormous and fruit-bearing. Isn't that inspiring? Doesn't that make you want to have a whole row of great plants you grew out of the seeds of fruits and veggies you just happened to buy with your regular groceries? Seeds, I might add, that you would ordinarily have thrown away?
Yes it does. And it makes me feel exactly the same way. Which is why, despite failure after failure, I can't bring myself to throw away avocado pits. I've tried the method where one pokes holes in the bottom of the seed and props it up in a glass so that only its round bottom is submersed in the water. And I'm currently attempting to keep the seed at the proper level by means of a champagne top wire. Here's what's happened to all of my pits in the past:
- I eat the avocado at my computer with a spoon. Very tasty.
- I look at the pit and think, "I ought to pitch this trouble-maker right now before the sorrow and tears set in."
- Then I think of someone eating an avocado while her face breaks into admiration as someone else says, "and can you believe she grew this herself?
- I set the avocado pit beside my monitor until I can take it downstairs where I
carefully prop it up in a container with some water.
- I water it for weeks and weeks and weeks.
- My husband says, "look, I know you're pretty sensitive about this topic, but the water is completely slimy and it kind of stinks. What's it doing in there?"
- I belt my husband with a couch pillow.
- Later, alone, I lift the pit out of the water and examine it for any signs of life at all.
- I beg it to grow.
- A week later I throw out the rotting corpse.
- Two days later I see that avocados are on sale as I pass my grocery cart by. They call, "Saskatchewan! Saskatchewan! Buy us! We're tasty! We love you!"
- See step 1.
Some day it will happen that one of the buggers actually breaks apart and grows. And that will be a good day with much gloating and waggling of triumphant fingers in my husband's face. And everyone will hail me from the valleys and the mountain-tops and they will sing the "saskatchewan was so absolutely right" song and my enemies will be vanquished.
Or, you know, not.
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