Sunday, May 25, 2014

Orphan Black in My Spice Garden

Rosemary is creepy.

No, not your Aunt Rosemary. She’s just sad. Little “r” rosemary — the kind you use for cooking, the kind that grows in your neighbor’s yard and then you jealously yank off a sprig of it because why should they have all the drought-resistant spice plants? And you put little “r” rosemary in water where she gets sunlight for a few hours every day, and soon enough you find that she’s sprouted spindly little roots that float about like strands of hair.

rosemary cutting

This is science. This is life. This is one rosemary twig’s triumph over being cruelly abducted from her family. But this is also creepy in that an inanimate source of food can think. You see, her stem was rough and covered in bark — designed for life above ground — but just a few days immersed in water and this little nothing of a plant knows to change the agenda. She shoots out tentacles and learns to thrive. With cooperation from God (who, in rosemary’s universe is me), she’ll grow into a full plant, maybe even on bigger than the plant I plucked her from, but she’ll have identical DNA. She’s a clone. She cloned herself. She’s a small miracle that unfolded specifically in a tea tumbler on my kitchen counter.

Laugh at me if you want. I saw Mimic. I’m keeping an eye on her.

EDIT: Just now realizing I totally missed the boat on titling this post Rosemary’s Baby. Shit.

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