Not that long ago, I stumbled upon four plants, long and rooty, flung into the grass and sidewalk of our back yard. They weren’t ours, and were too big to be weeds.
“Any idea what that might be?”I asked Steve.
He peered down at them. “No idea.”
“You didn’t pull them?”
He shook his head.
The landlord had been by to cut the grass a few days earlier, but these strange seedlings (and one accompanying flower) had just appeared that day.
If they’d been in a more organized state, I might have thought they were a guerilla gardener action. If they’d been closer to one fence or the other, I might have thought they were from one of the neighbors.
But there they were, and even though Steve did suggest our upstairs neighbor might have launched them over the balcony into the grass below, I prefer that they are simply a mystery, like the death of Elvis or the location of Jimmy Hoffa, or, even, why our wireless router, phone connector and printer all went out in the same seven-day period last week.