September 29, 2011
Tobacco Story
Over about a year and a half this tobacco plant grew to be a monster of a thing. Giant leaves, bunches of pretty pink flowers, all of it intensely sticky. I couldn't maneuver in my garden around it without pieces of it sticking in my hair or on my arms. Though I read about what it would take to harvest and cure the leaves, having quit smoking over a decade ago, I didn't have much motivation for such a lengthy and complex process. A bit of dried leaf did get burned in a ceremonial way, an acknowledgment of abundance this harvest season between my Love and I, and honoring it as the sacred plant it is.
The flowers dried into little seed vessels that, when turned upside-down, poured hundreds of tiny seeds out. After realizing that the piles of brown granuals on my worm box were not from terminates, but were in fact from the tobacco plant towering over it, I began collecting them. With minimal time spent and collecting at most maybe 5% of the one plant's seeds, I filled a pint container.
If the seeds cause volunteer tobacco plants to grow next year, I may harvest some of the leaves and try some curing. It could be fun to make a homemade cigar or some vanilla flavored pipe-tobacco....
Tags
flowers (30), garden (11), plants (13), seeds (1), tobacco (1)
On a fotostroll with fotologger 
This might be from a bulb I planted in the fall or it might have already been here. Bulbs are the epitome of spring, the dormant life below the earth, the cycles of death and rebirth. They make me think of the story of Persephone and Hades. Bulbs are a symbol of patience and are the opposite of instant gratification. They show me how I can plant something, hiding it away, and then forget about it, only to be reminded months later by their little green shoots breaking through the dirt. Bulbs make me feel happy and alive.
Arianna Helen