The Crocus Saga
Man vs. Nature vs. Crocusby Dave McAwesome
- Flowers are as dumb as houseplants (1/5)
- Revenge of the Crocus (2/5)
- Snowed (3/5)
- Hocus Crocus (4/5)
- To Kill a Crocus (5/5)
- Crocus Epilogue
Flowers are as dumb as houseplants
I like flowers. I like gardening. I even like houseplantening. But sometimes flowers can be stupid. There's a crocus by me that has decided, in mid-February, to be the first flower of spring. It will rue that decision. A few days ago, winter dumped a fair bit of heavy, wet snow on New York. Take that, crocus. Take that right in the face. If the quality of this picture were at all passable you'd see what I mean. Nevertheless, you can probably imagine all those plant cells bursting in unison as night falls and the damp snow freezes into ice. The crocus will die before it can bloom and reproduce, potentially killing this genetic strain of premature crocus-ness. See how nature tidies up its mess? Now why can't natural selection weigh in on stock-brokers and other two-legged jerks?
Revenge of the Crocus
Good heavens and great Scott (because if there's anything that's good and great, it's heavens and Scottses--actually, General Scott lost an election bid to Franklin Pierce, so he wasn't so great after all...considering he lost to one of the least great American presidents in history, perhaps we'd better dump this expression post haste). Anyhoo, the crocus has survived a mid-winter snow and frost. I'd written off this coming Spring's first flower after a heavy, wet snowfall appeared to crush it. It didn't. Then I thought the freezing of the snow and slush after nightfall would rupture the cellular walls of the poor plant. It didn't. I think it's clear what we have here: a superplant. Nature's own prototype. I'm going to cultivate this vege-beast (pronunciation guide: like vegetable, but insert 'beast' for 'table' and make sure to treat 'vege' as if it has two syllables. Say it with me...veh...geh...beast. Vege-beast. Very good.). I shall have an entire garden of superplants. Soon I shall harvest my invincible crocus crop and make all sorts of marketable commodities out of them: smoothies, flak jackets, armor-piercing crocus-tipped bullets, wall calendars and shatter-proof brandy snifters. I am to be feared.
Snow has blanketed New York again. This time it's a dry, powdery snow. But, damn it, it's still snow. The Supercrocus is buried again. I don't help it for fear of undermining the strict evolutionary biological laws of garden plants. It's a tough world. I fear even the most stalwart of superplants cannot survive two snowstorms in five days. (Apologies for the timing of these stories...I don't post them up like a blog, I post them when it is appropriate for the site to have a new article. To better situate you time-wise, the first snowfall was Monday, 2/21 and the second was Friday, 2/25.)
Son of Kal-El. SuperCrocus lives. Can nothing stop it? The other plants have become awestruck by their invincible neighbor. They stare at it with a cultish fervor. I'm becoming alarmed. How can I obtain a genetic sample to rear my army of Vege-beasts under their watchful gaze? Troubled times are these.
To Kill a Crocus
...is impossible. Sweet Jeebus. More snow on Feb. 22nd. Hardpack. This is the kind of snow designed for one purpose and one purpose only: snowball fights. A few inches of it are pummeling the once mighty SuperCrocus. Three snowfalls in eight days. Hard times, my friend, hard times. But nothing could fell the mighty vege-beast. SuperCrocus burned through the snow much in the same way a lava flow carves a mountain. It cannot be stopped. Soon, these invincible plants will spread across every inch of topsoil. Our only hope is to bow down to our mighty photosynthetic overlords and their green god. Quickly, before they sense our weakness and erase any notion of mercy from their once innocent flower buds. We are doomed.
Nature has spoken and righted the order of the universe. We humans are back on top. Yay us. Another few icy snowfalls at the beginning of March, and the SuperCrocus was unable to pollinate. Now, the normal, less-super crocuses have taken over. Everybody look at the picture now. All together now: "Awwwwwww, oooooooooooooooh, ahhhhhhhhh."