Monday, May 26, 2008
The constant gardener
This is Harrison today, at 5 months, enjoying his first picnic in the park, after which we decided to go home and plant my placenta. I took it out of the freezer last night, as if it were a piece of steak, but somehow it just did not seem right sticking it in the ground frozen. This morning, I couldn't look at the plastic Ziploc bag anymore and made haste to buy a plant to go in the ground. I chose a climbing rose bush with fragrant peachy blooms. I dug a hole in the one spot in the garden where the rose bush would fit, hard by a tree stump. I couldn't dig quite so far because I kept hitting roots. So I eyeballed the depth and, with sweaty brow, unwrapped the placenta and its loooong cord, marveled at it, was thankful for it, and tried not to wretch. I put it in the ground, placed the bush on top and began back filling. Of course, the hole was not deep enough. The only other place to plant it was in a large whiskey barrel. I dug a hole there, yanked up the bush, and then kept digging looking for the placenta. Suddenly, I felt like I was living an episode of CSI. What was wrong with me? I glanced up to see if any neighbors were looking. I grabbed the earth-encrusted placenta, dangling from its cord, and placed it in the planter, dropped in the bush, and covered it all up quickly.
I can't wait to see -- and smell -- it bloom.