Supposedly Dead Plant Miraculously Revives Itself After Three Weeks

I went to take the weekly photographs of my budding carnivorous plant terrarium, and was bewildered to see new growth in the plant that I supposed was wilted and decomposing. I am delighted to inform the world that this deceptive plant has resurrected overnight. I am overjoyed.

The plant which has been unquestionably alive for the past three weeks is thriving, as usual, but I find myself wondering if it was a Venus flytrap all along. I could easily see the leaves turning into hungry little mouths in the near future.

I’ve been reading up on carnivorous plants. When one of my mother’s friends learned of my endeavors she sent me a magazine article from Smithsonian magazine about endangered Venus flytraps growing in the wilds of North and South Carolina. Colonial folks exported them to Europe as a curiosity, and the English named them “tipitiwitchets.”

Charles Darwin imported some Venus flytraps from the Carolinas and devotedly fed them cheese and egg whites. Thomas Jefferson, while living in France, sent away for some flytraps to impress the Parisian ladies. Empress Josephine kept them in her garden at Chateau Malmaison. The magazine attributes the plant’s name to a British botanist called John Ellis, while other sources attribute its name to a dirty, dirty man punning on female anatomy. (Anybody seen the movie Teeth?)

There is apparently a popular misconception that the American colonists were all amateur art historians and compared the structure of the leaf to the clam shell in the Birth of Venus by Botticelli. This gives me the idea to paint a beautiful naked women emerging from the open mouth of a Venus flytrap, hiding her shame. I offer this idea to anyone who wouldn’t destroy it as I would.

Bringing the stunted plant back to life was but one miracle. I planted a bean teepee over our septic tank, and the leaves around the poles have been sprouting and sprawling for quite some time. There is nothing remarkable about this. As of this morning, a dozen other bean plants sprouted under the bean tent. I’m not sure what to make of it. I didn’t plant any seeds there.

When I was little, I went to my friend Sara’s house wile she helped her mom plant a bean teepee. Sara informed me that the teepee would grow large enough for her family to camp in and they would spend the entire night picking beans off the walls and eating them.

Unfortunately, our industrial strawberry plant was not bestowed with miracles. It looks rather sickly after a week of rain and overcast. The corporate garden gnome hasn’t responded to my e-mails or phone calls. Why can’t we just plant real strawberries like normal people? I will not provide an image to support this observation, as I do not want to sully my blog with its rotting leaves. Instead, feast your eyes on these pleasantly striated sliced red onions.