Leaving the driveway last week, the only time I head outside these days in our incessant 3-digit temperatures, I glanced over and saw that the stalk, now, as well as the leaves, had turned a yellow-tan. It was dead. Now this is not bad news. It means that something like a thousand-plus green babies are ready to start being removed. rooted, and planted in what the pet industry refers to optimistically as their "forever homes."
I ventured out the next morning, sometime before it hit 100, and picked a likely plant among the largest within reach. It was wide enough as its leaf tips spread out in a rosette to support itself across the top of a three ounce Solo cup.
I had the remains of a box of them from perhaps 20 years ago in the bathroom. I found them too small to fit in a cup dispenser, but never threw them out. Since moving to Arizona, I've set a short stack of them on a bathroom shelf above the sink. Each morning and evening, I set out my pills in one, then bring it into the living room where I can take them while watching TV, with something cooler and usually tastier than bathroom tap water. These return to the stack later for further use.
The cup with the baby agave in it, after adding water up past the bottom of the plant by half an inch, went in the living room window, on the ledge. A daily check to maintain proper water level, along with a peek to see if anything was happening yet, was all that was required. That location, while facing north, gets a bit of sun both morning and night right now, but with the house kept at 81 degrees, doesn't dry out super fast like it would outside. I'd tried a different set of agave babies, fallen from their parent, in soil outside in a pot, but nothing ever happened. I blame the harsh environment fro drying them out faster than I appeared with water. (Granted, that was every two or three days. Likely my bad.)
After a week in the window ledge, my first octopus agave suddenly sprouted an inch long root. Yee-Haaaaa! Since it was early morning, and Rich was awake, I emptied out the rest of the box of Solo cups, counted them, and we two set out to pluck the same number of babies from the largest ones we could reach on the stalk. It takes a gentle hand to reach in behind the baby of choice, with leaves from all the adjacent ones crowding into every bit of space, making sure you've surrounded all of the baby you want, and then giving a twist to free it from the tiny stalk connecting it to its parent.
I also figured it took a "spotter" in case my imperfect balance left me on the ground with no good way up. While my balance is better, and the legs are much stronger than they have been for years, I still do my best to avoid situations which land me on the ground, particularly outside on a surface of pointy rocks and even pointier plants. I could have just asked Rich to go out and do it himself, but I wanted some of the fun myself. After all, I've been looking forward to this for months.
Now, 13 cups line the window, along with a leftover container which holds 8 (?) more babies. The blinds have been pulled up a few inches, our compromise between enough light for the babies and privacy for us at night.
Then it was time to reach out to anybody I knew who had their own yard and might be interested in either rooted babies, or bypassing any human contact whatsoever and heading directly to the stalk to pluck and root their own. I gave growing instructions, and encouraged everyone to reach out further to anybody they know who might wish their own plants. As soon as the new batch of babies has rooted, we'll place ads in online message boards for free stuff, letting the neighborhood know. Growers, even, should they wish a free source of healthy plants.
I've gotten two replies to my email. One asked for 3, one simply said "Wow" and asked how life was. Of course I replied.
"Uh, mostly boring.
Lots of mail ordering rather than shopping.
Avoiding the club and not doing anything with all my supplies at home.
Avoiding the pool.
Discovering
that there is actually a limit to how many episodes of various veterinary TV
shows you can watch in a given month, despite how many are having TV
marathons.
Getting better at Wheel and Jeopardy.
Busy
studying how many dirty dishes can stack up before my disgust kicks in
and I wash them, since the guys don't care that the counters are full
and no clean spoons are left.
Realizing
that the 300 or so books sitting on my Kindle unread are actually there
because they are still lousy books despite being free, and I'm always
going to pick the newest book to read instead of the ones still sitting
there since 2015.
Waiting
for the latest thing I ordered to show up so I can see if finally, this
one last thing, will actually kill the bed bug infestation really truly
dead and not just discouraged for a day or two before the next wave.
(But I'm really hopeful this time....)
Itching.
Watching the water and electric bills skyrocket from AC and laundry use.
Catching up on 45 years of sleep deprivation.
Yelling
at the TV as the numbers of covidiots being covidiots goes up and up
and keeps us stuck at home for ever and ever and ever and ever....
Glad we three all actually like each other.
Over-answering simple questions via email.
So how's by you?"
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