a snapshot from today

(posted in part for chris_walsh, who might just need a smile)

A few days ago, I responded to an ad on Freecycle. Someone was giving away some love-lies-bleeding plants - something I've never had success growing from seed. (This is a really nifty plant.) So tonight I headed over to Charleroi to lay claim to one of these lil' gems.

The address given took me to a place that had the hills of Manayunk and the feel of Germantown. Carrying a small pot of dirt and plants, I walked up to this rather large brick Victorian (..something very wrong with that..) and knocked on the door. While I waited on the huge shaded porch, I admired the view - the home is perched on such a steep hillside that one has to imagine the original owners were landowners who wished to keep a close eye on their property.

A woman answered my knock. "Ivan will be right down - I'm their housemate," she volunteered, radiating cheer but not making eye contact. "I have to make sure the critters don't get out."

"I thought there had to be critters."

"Two cats and a dog. And some kids." She laughed. "I'll go check on Ivan."

Okie dokie. I took note of the new wooden floor of the porch - 'Huh, between the bricks and the wood, I sure know I'm not in Philly!' - ah, Germantown, where the houses are made out of good solid schist...*wistful sigh*

"Sorry to have kept you waiting!" A thin quick-speaking fellow stepped out from the house. "I'm Ivan."

"Hi!" I followed him off the porch. "So - I work at a nursery, and we had some pentas that needed a home - would you like them?"

"Sure! We have lots of places to put stuff, as you can see." He waved at the steep hills and scattered patches of gardens. "What kind of light do they need?"

"Sun to part shade."

"Ok, I have a spot back here.." He led me to where his love-lies-bleeding was happily filling yet another flowerbed. "I was experimenting," he grinned. "The really big ones are the ones I planted; the others were seeds I just scattered. They're all doing pretty well." He reached down and picked up a smallish green pot with two hopeful plants in it. "These are for you."

"Awesome!" I exchanged those with the pentas, which he put in the now-vacant spot for the moment.

He then happily babbled about his hens and chicks, which he called aliens - I can't find a link - but looked rather more like dandelion plants. "Oh, I had someone send them to me from a lab," he smiled. "They grow these stalks that look like alien heads." Ooookie dokie... "Did you know that hens and chicks are good luck, but only if you steal them? And if you plant them with red geraniums, they're VERY lucky. Folklore says you can always tell the good witches on the block because they have red geraniums in their garden. Not that I'm a Wiccan. Because I'm not. But you said you work in a nursery - you know all this, right?"

"Ummmmm...no. But I'll have to do some reading!"

He walked me around to the other side of the house to show me construction being done. "This house is over 100 years old and we had a fire 2 years ago - thousands of dollars in damage in 35 minutes."

"Wow!"

"No one was hurt. Not even our cat. I had to go into the basement to get him, though - the firemen wouldn't believe me when I said I knew where he was. I kicked in that window there, jumped in, grabbed him - was out in 3 seconds." He showed me the neighboring two Victorians and explained the history of these three homes, pointing out the varied details in the woodwork and ironwork.

As we walked back towards the street, he asked if I liked mint.

"Yes, actually...!"

He reached towards a hill and pulled a long chunk of plant out of the ground. "Here's some chocolate mint. Take it!" (I have to say it looked much better than my own young plant at home..) He plucked a leaf off another plant. "And this is Burmese white sage. Excellent for cooking."

I thanked Ivan for his time and returned to my car, thinking that this is the kind of person I would absolutely expect to meet in Germantown..but not here. I could see him and varakesh516 talking for hours, and I found myself wishing I had a reason to return.

But. Less is more. 15 minutes in the shining presence of a stranger is better than never having had the meeting. *nod*

Writer's Block: I May Be Crazy

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A mischievous goblin.