Early last spring, Husbando and I found ourselves off to Young, NSW. Australia's cherry capital is still an old fashioned country town, the main drag is wide and quickly leads to the industrial end of town. There's only the slightest whiff of gentrification, with a combo deli-cafe on Boowora St and the local interior designer's HQ in the block behind. Good design is needed everywhere, I guess. As blossoms had begun to pop mountainside, I was anticipating a fervent show from the local fruit trees but I was to be disappointed with the exception of the geranium below.
And this is where I must make a confession...on occasion, I am inclined to theft. Never anything with an actual price tag, almost only ever snatches of geranium and pelagoriums. However, this instance is a sobering one as I quite willfully and in broad daylight, snapped off three pieces of this geranium...which was found outside the church where the funeral we'd attended had been held. As my hand reached out, I remember thinking that this could risk the wrath of god* but the garish colour held sway and I plucked away, quickly jamming the pieces into my handbag. At home, I popped them in some water and waited for them to grow roots before planting them out.
Of course, it is far nicer practise to approach the owner of the plant you'd like to pilfer and ask if they'd mind if you took a cutting. Most gardeners enjoy the complement and are more than happy to oblige, particularly if you whip out your own secateurs, rather than just breaking plants willy-nilly. Alas, my manners where somewhere else that day and I didn't find the priest who officiated to ask if he felt his God would mind. Obviously he did as a couple of weeks later, I got to my front door where I'd recently planted out some salmon coloured geranium cuttings and they'd disappeared. Spooky! I think I have really pissed off a god that I'm not even sure I believe in...I kid you not!
*nb: small g is intentional in a multi-denominational world, in encouragement of a more pluralistic sense of spirituality. I'm not sure how I can really justify my behaviour that day except to say that when the two surviving cuttings are really flourishing, I intend to give one to the person whose father we farewelled that day. But what to say?