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I am a mystic madman, a wandering wildman, scholar of esoterica, dilettante sadhu, dready-headed hippie (only have a few jata on the back of my head right now, though more be forming of this third set of knotted hair), gentle yogi, fierce foe of falsity. I was a preacher, but I renounced that. I was married, but she renounced me. I was a grad student at one of the top universities in the world on my way to becoming a professor, but I realized they taught lies there too. I am protector of souls, lover of mountains, smoker of herb, fond of hot springs, oceans and lakes and rivers and rain and sunshine, devotee of Devi.

Hindu Gods and Goddesses

Thursday, June 4, 2009

Laramie's Lovely Lilacs . . . And Failed Ninja-Style Stick-Splicing



Laramie's lilacs are legion this year, perhaps more abundant than I can recall of any previous.



Oh so lovely and lavendar in color (and perhaps exceeding said color's namesake flower's scent in texture and emotions elicited), and with olifactory bliss awaiting the wanton nose, desirous to inhale the luscious molecules of floral intoxication the lilac bush's blooms provide.



I must admit, I did enjoy the crabapple blossoms which preceded. The subtle yet arousing scent of blossoms of the Rosaceae family (not to be confused with rosacea, a skin condition commonly known as adult acne)--nigh all have their olifactory merits, and crabapple blossoms, among the first flowers to bloom up here in the high country, are a welcome respite from the bite of winter, surpassing the scent of most proper roses by a fair span, and certainly beating the smells of burning pine and cold of wintertime.



Yet I must note, I am a bit embittered at the crabbyapple trees of this town, for last spring I endeavored to get no small number of them to receive limb transplants of a more fruitful version of their family tree, and they summarily rejected these attempts to attach full-sized-apple bearing scions to their trunks.



I dressed in black as I (with the help of one friend on one occasion) stealthily prowled around town during the early spring nights with sharp blade and saw and grafting compound in hand to covertly graft over one hundred scions onto said stubborn crabapples, evading the authorities with grace and ease as I sought to complete my mission, as I was wishin' to bring a bit less bitter a harvest to Laramie's fall.



Alas, as far as I know, not one scion successfully attached to even one single crabapple tree, despite every indication that I'd done it right.



I might add that the lilacs last spring did not smell so sweet as this season's and were hardly abundant, and that the crabapple blossoms certainly outdid the lilacs last year in terms of providing both olifactory and visual pleasure. Nonetheless, what harm could have come from a few full-sized eating apples dangling from trees otherwise covered in tiny sour fruit?

Oh well . . . this year both crabapples and lilacs have put on a good spring show, despite the fact neither provides much of a blessing, come the fall.



2 comments:

Anonymous said...

http://olive-gardening.blogspot.com/2011/04/olive-grafting.html

Anonymous said...

Hello :) if you took this photo when the grafts were fresh, then i suspect it was your timing that might have been the problem. I think the time to graft is right before buds start to emerge, in late winter or very early spring. This might vary from location to location.
Carry on trying!