Love Earth Now by Cheryl Leutjen

Author:Cheryl Leutjen [Leutjen, Cheryl]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781633536265
Publisher: Mango Media
Published: 2017-12-15T06:23:10+00:00

TWELVE

Crimson Seed: Surprising Sisterhood

I stumble through the dark house, eyes half open, not quite sure why I’m up. Perhaps the cats have knocked something over or the old window has blown open in a draft again. I find myself in the kitchen. I fumble for the light switch and cover my eyes until they adjust. Scan the room for signs of disturbance. While the kitchen is in complete disarray, it’s of the usual sort. Dirty dishes stream out of the sink. Abandoned shoes lurk under the table. My favorite pen flung to the floor by my least favorite cat. Nothing out of the ordinary, and yet nothing is the same.

And then I see it. Where yesterday there was a plain brown seed pod, now flaming red seeds protrude from every orifice. I picked up the pod on my walk a few days ago, completely unaware of the budding fertility lying within. Now scarlet ovules erupt out of their tiny wombs like impertinent tongues impatiently seeking their first tastes of ecstasy. They pulsate with the hormones of a budding teenager, eager to be on their way, and to be on their own, in the great big world. Their naked display of desire is at once vulgar and titillating.

What combination of light, temperature, and moisture has coincided here in my kitchen to awaken these sleeping buds of sexuality? Or was it the full moon of this night that awakened both my sleeping self and these tender seeds? Ah, yes, the full moon. I remember it and sigh. Who can sleep on the night of this super moon?

I make myself some tea and settle in to contemplate. These seeds are from a Magnolia grandiflora tree, a species neither native nor sustainable to grow here in drought-stricken Southern California. Magnolias require water—and lots of it—to get established. An abundance of water is something we have none of right now. I’m barely keeping a couple of tomato plants alive with the rinse water from the GR pitcher.

Why there are so many magnolia trees in our neighborhood is a puzzle, one whose roots extend far longer than my tenure here.

One thing I know is that I’m unwilling to irrigate the progeny of a water-hungry tree with the precious water supplies we have. It’s unlikely these seeds will get the rain they need any other way, with the rainy season still months away—if it materializes at all. It seems heartless to fling these eager and hungry seeds out into the heat and onto the bone-dry soil where they will surely wither and rot.

I consider the options. I could eat them, though I have no idea if they are digestible. I could compost them. I could leave them out for the squirrels to eat. I could send them to my family in Louisiana where magnolias flourish. I can just picture the comments around the dinner table when they receive yet another package from crazy Aunt Cheryl in California. I could get out the Mod Podge and decoupage them into a shrine to “Lives Not Lived.

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