URGENT: There has been a crime committed against me, personally, a Lady of a Certain Age with small joys and big obsessions and I need your help.
Earlier this week I ventured to my local Grocery Outlet Bargain Market in search of a very large ceramic pot for my Monstera that has grown to be the size of a midsize car. (Pro tip from me, your Chinese auntie: This grocery chain is the best place for planter-based quests in Seattle. You can get an 18” pot for, maybe, $20.)
Alas, no pots were to be found, but I did discover a bin full of thorny sticks for $9.99 each. ROSE BUSH STARTERS. Purple roses. Coral roses. White-and-red splatter paint roses. I bought a bright yellow Midas Touch starter and headed home, delighted.
There’s a little weed-covered square of dirt next to our place. (Is this part of our neighbor’s property? Perhaps!) I pulled and composted those weeds. I dug up rocks and uncovered a concrete footpath stone. I excitedly unwrapped my thorny sticks and said some words of encouragement to the resilient-looking roots dangling down as I gently placed my first rose bush into the earth. I cleaned up (my friend Ryan texted me—did I just drive by you sweeping…the outside 🤨), made a little dated Day 1 sign and took my flower’s portrait. I was thrilled!
I went to a show for a few hours with a friend. And then—readers, brace yourselves!—when I returned home, SOMEONE HAD RIPPED MY ROSE BUSH OUT OF THE GROUND AND THROWN IT ON TOP OF A PILE OF TRASH. I was enraged! Baffled! Crushed!
Don’t worry. I salvaged it and re-planted it in a pot, singing out a few more words of encouragement to it like a prayer, as that little sprout had been though A LOT in my short absence. You can do it, buddy.
Here are the facts: The crime was committed between 5-6pm PST, as that was the gap between me leaving and Keri and Teenager Leong getting home and noticing the hole in the ground. It wasn’t my neighbor whose property I MAY have planted it in—he wasn’t home. Plus, he likes roses!
So that’s it. That’s the crime I’m fighting here in Seattle. If you have any leads/theories/ideas for revenge, please don’t hesitate to share away.
And now that that’s out there, here’s today’s RPR links, continuing on the theme of brutal neighborly battles.
SOMETHING TO READ
An unforgettable tale of the nerdiest war on earth that I absolutely cannot believe was not written by a Seattleite: My Little Free Library war: How our suburban front-yard lending box made me hate books and fear my neighbors, by Dan Greenstone for Salon.
SOMETHING TO LISTEN TO
From This American Life, a 5-minute prologue about two Florida organizations in a ugly legal dispute over who owns the rights to use the business names “Love Thy Neighbor” and “Love Your Neighbor.” One org is a charity and the other is a ministry. Amazing.
SOMETHING TO HOLD ON TO
This has nothing to do with badly behaving neighbors. For this spectacular recipe, we’re circling back to the rose theme.
This gorgeous Chocolate Rose Mousse Torte is the recipe that first introduced me to the world of Chef Amy Chaplin. She’s a magician with plants and maple syrup, and everything I’ve made from her Whole Food Cooking Every Day cookbook makes me feel like I am eating the earth (in a good way). Bonus: this video of her cute little elf son eating it. The best!!
THAT’S A WRAP ON ISSUE 105
Thanks for reading, listening, holding on, and feeling my gardening crime pain, friends.
See you next week, hopefully with some answers or at least a great story of floral karmic justice.
K.
P.S. Did you miss yesterday’s The Family Court Report? It’s our CliffsNotes version of a bombshell of a new report from the United Nations. Here you go:
I once observed a student who always took time to stop and stomp on the roses. Such passion.
It's "stop and smell the roses," not "stop and pull-an-innocent-baby-rose-bush-out-of-the-ground-for-no-reason, thereby-removing-any-hope-to-smell the roses." Rude!