Ranunculus

Day 189: Since 2014, I have been monitoring a particular location in the Park where my botany partners and I found what was all too obviously someone's cremated remains. Whoever had deposited their relative there had also planted daffodils and other non-native plants in violation of Park regulations. Every year since then, I have removed plants, sometimes bedded in soil, other times simply sunk, plastic pots and all with store tags intact. I thought I had the time frame for these memorial visits figured out, although with Easter and Mother's Day usually occurring near one another, I wasn't quite sure which occasion set the date. This year, Easter fell well in advance of Mother's Day, and sure enough, when I checked the site a few days after, there were two pots of Ranunculus which were quite easy to remove after photographing them in situ to refer to our law enforcement division. On one hand, I'm annoyed that the culprits are not getting the message that their "deposits" are not allowed. On the other, I'm enjoying the spots of colour just outside my kitchen door where the Ranunculus found a new home.

The Geranium That Wouldn't Die

Day 285: This is the story of The Geranium That Wouldn't Die. It's not the kind of story you hear every day, and some people may find it disturbing. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Last spring when I was hunting down rare orchids, a friend reported to me that he had found daffodils, tulips and other flowers blooming on a service trail in the Park. Since planting of non-native species is strictly prohibited within our boundaries, I dutifully went to the location and removed them. Rather than throw them out, I brought them home and planted them, scoring in the process some bulbs for my garden (the tulips were pink, ugh!) as well as a white hydrangea. The daffodils were well-rooted, as if they had spent at least one full year in place. The tulips and hydrangea were in pots and fresh, but I also found other empty pots buried in the ground at the site. All things considered, I figured someone had spread a family member's ashes there at some time in the past, and now they were creating a memorial garden. I may have been right about that, but only halfway.

Two weeks later, more plants showed up in the same spot. I climbed up the short rise to remove them, and was met with the sight of human "cremains" distributed over an area approximately 8' x 10'. Again in the line of duty, I documented everything with my camera, pulled the plants, covered the ashes with forest detritus and reported the discovery to my superiors.

Once again, I brought the plants home, but our nights were still dropping into the mid-20's and I assumed the geraniums wouldn't survive. I didn't want to fuss with bringing hanging baskets in and out, so I pitched them onto my compost heap and didn't give them another thought until a month or so later when I found one of them blooming its silly head off without so much as a pot around its roots. I felt sorry for the poor thing and stuck it in some dirt and set it by my back porch step. It looked sickly for another month, and then started putting on leaves. Now it's covered in blossoms, and today enjoyed a light sprinkling of rain.