Obituary

by Elanor, with regret

If you look down at the previous post, you can find above the label "Elanor's pet #2" a picture of a lovely, glowing ranunculus. After a long and courageous struggle, this flower sadly passed away on Sunday, March 8, and has now moved on to a better existence (or not, depending on your theology).

The plant was purchased in the Garden section at the Target located next to Berkeley. Who could know that, for a pittance of $5, a blooming being could bring so much joy to one apartment? Its owner brought it home, transplanted it into a more permanent pot, and proceeded to welcome it into the Lin residence.

Its life was not without struggle. The tap water at the above mentioned residence apparently did not agree with the brave plant's constitution. If you look more closely at the picture, you will observe a slight yellowing of the outer leaves. This greatly distressed the owner, but there was nothing to be done except continue watering and hope the plant's spirit would win out.

The first weekend, the Lins had to leave the plant in the apartment for three days while they attended to their episcopal and social commitments in San Jose. Even though they made sure to water the plant within 30 seconds of departing, upon their return the top soil was completely dry, and there were even more yellow leaves.

Seeing that the plant was not yet robust enough to fend for itself without supervision, the next weekend, the owners brought it along to San Jose. The car ride filled the plant with joy and terror. The sunlight streaming through the windshield sent it into glowing rapture, but along with this intoxication came the rattle and jolt of a car driving down ill-paved roads. The pot shook and the plant's leaves were jostled until it couldn't tell its roots from its petals.

Once in Cupertino, the plant's owner was getting desperate. The plant was still yellowing, and its petals were beginning to droop. She decided to try moving the plant to a bigger pot, to allow its roots more space. She obtained a new pot from the back yard, cleaned it, and transferred the plant yet again, hoping beyond hope that this new change would spark some health back into the fading flower.

It might have worked. We shall never know. On Sunday morning, since they were on their way back to Berkeley, the Lins brought the plant with them to church. It was cool in the early morning. The plant remained in the front seat during Sunday school at South Valley. At 10:45, the Lins made their way to Cupertino to attend the Joint's Sunday service. When they disembarked from their vehicle at 11:15, the sun was still hidden behind grey clouds, so they again left the plant in the car during their religious function. Never again. At 12:30, they exited the building to a parking lot filled with warm, spring sunlight, suspecting nothing. When they reached the car, they saw. The plant was dead. Its petals were wrinkled and brown, its stems fallen over, its leaves entirely yellow and drooping. After all the love poured onto it, the plant had been killed by a moment of thoughtless neglect.

It was a brave plant, and we do honor to its memory. We shall tell its story to our future household greenery, how its strength and joy brought light to our lives, for a little while.