But none of that is what I came here to write about today. It just explains a bit about why I have been slightly distracted lately. It also helps to explain my Blogger's guilt.(You never call, you never write...) Here is what I really wanted to share with you. Leave it to nature to put things into amazingly clear perspective. As you know, for the past several years, we have resided more than half of the time in our beach house. And on the corner of our lot overlooking the Pacific, there has always been a rather large cluster of prickly plants which our gardener labeled as Agave plants. They resemble Aloe plants but the tips of their leaves contain very sharp, thorn-like edges that really hurt if you happen to brush by them by mistake. This plant is also extremely prolific in that it produces "pups" or baby Agave plants on the paths all around it. Instinctively, we began removing the pups because the mother plant is so extremely large that we did not want to have our yard overtaken by the little pricklers. A couple of weeks ago, a giant, very phallic, asparagus-like stalk seemed to sprout from the center of this plant overnight. It seemed to go from invisible to ten feet tall before we even noticed that it was there. When my husband began to refer to it as "the penis plant"(yes, leave it to a guy;)), we decided that we not only needed to photograph it, but that we needed to research what the heck was going on with our Momma Agave plant. And so, I began the Google search. Turns out, there are several subspecies of Agave plants many of which make lovely ornamental additions to a western yard. This one, however, not so much.
Remarkable. Truly remarkable. And when I stare out at this Agave plant, I cannot help but basque in the wonder that someone, 100 years ago or more, pulled that baby out of the desert and planted it right here on our bluff. Not knowing that in 100 years, we would be sitting here looking at the very same plant as it puts on a spectacular show. 100 years. Who knew?
Nature certainly has a way of putting a spin on how infinitely small we really are in comparison to so much of what is around us. And as I gaze at the Momma Agave and her maturing pups, I cannot help but relate to her in so many ways. I mean, here I am, and here are my babies ages 17, 19, 21 and almost 24. When someone meets their children or their children's children in 100 years or so, will they somehow sense the spirit of who I once was and how those individuals made their way into this world?
Love to you.