Tuesday, June 26, 2007


It is probably the same way that they got started. People who find themselves living in a house with hundreds of rescued cats - and no one else. The ones you see on the Sunday morning local news programs from the "Friends of (fill in the blank)" Shelter seeking a permanent home for an abandoned dog of uncertain breed. They all began with just one.

I belong to our town's Beautification Trust, an organization "to enhance the appearance of Wethersfield by creating and maintaining public gardens and encouraging beautification projects." One of the gardens that had been established several years ago in what was then a sunny location is now awash in shade. As a result the sun-loving plants are languishing and the "we don't need nuthin" weeds are taking over. The Trust reluctantly decided to close down the site, rototill the land, and let some shade loving grass takeover the property. Whatever was there would be churned into the ground.

I went to see if there were any plants worth salvaging. There were two kinds of sedum: a small leaved, low-to-the-ground, almost lime colored one with burgeoning yellow flowers, and a larger leaved, paler green with overtones of maroon, mid-sized one - plus a number of daisy looking taller plants. I came back home and told Mars, and after a return visit with her we opted to dig out one of each variety for our own home gardens.

We also decided to contact Betty and Craig, acquaintances who are landscaping their recently acquired house. A couple of evenings later Mars, Craig and I went down to the garden and took out several plants which we each brought to our respective homesteads and transplanted.

That night I got to thinking that there were still a good number of healthy plants (I hadn't really counted them) that definitely deserved a better fate than to be devoured by the rotating blades of a rototiller. The next day I went down again to see how many there were. It was a lot more than I expected and I came back home with about twenty plants - mostly the small sedum.

Then I conferred with Mars. We decided that our niece Leslie and our neighbor and tax preparer Melissa (a.k.a. "the tax chick"), both avid gardeners, might be interested. Fortunately they were. Our niece took two of each and Melissa eagerly adopted the rest

So I got to thinking again. The next day I called the head of the Beautification Trust who assured me that if I dug out the sedum they could place it somewhere.

As result I now have eleven white kitchen trash bags filled with sedum - nine short, two tall - sitting in my driveway, waiting to be picked up and delivered to their new homes. They line both sides of the asphalt like over-sized luminarios (a.k.a. faralitos) - the sand filled bags with votive candles that appear at Christmas - after they've been de-luminated and rained on. I am certain that they'll be out of here soon.

Again I'm thinking. It doesn't really take that long to rescue the little guys - that last foray only took thirty minutes. And local television is always looking for segments that tug at the viewer's heartstrings.

I'll be sitting on the interview stool just to the right of the ebullient, anchor-babe wearing my F.O.S. tee shirt, dirt avalanching down my pants legs, and a motionless litter of sedum on my lap.

Please call.

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