Traditionally -- if, in fact, a blog that is only 4 years old can be said to have anything resembling a tradition -- I do a Mother's Day post, where I tell you some crazy story about my mother. Last year, when I was recounting the
tale of the speed bumps, I said I was going to tell you the story of the other time she ran afoul of the law.
This story starts in late spring/early summer. The time of year when my mother's interest in landscaping became all-encompassing. Spreading mulch, planting flowers, poisoning weeds and killing grubs became her passion. She loved flowers, and every year she would buy so many flats of flowers the garage floor would be covered with them the week before the planting and my father would have to park outside. In addition to the normal sort of planting that went on, there was always one wild goose chase. It was different every year. I called it The Quest.
The Quest was a name I made up for her incessant search for something unique for her landscaping. It had to be something nobody else had, and it was even better if it were something free.
As an example, for years we had something called a
mimosa tree in our back yard. For those of you a few hours south or southeast of where I grew up, you probably see these things all over the place. They are a beautiful flowering tree my mother fell in love with and decided that she wanted.
The only problem is that Nature did not intend for mimosa trees to grow in upstate New York. It's too cold, and they die. That's just the way things are. That little fact didn't stop her from trying, though. On our annual trip to the Jersey shore, she dug one up, brought it home and planted it in the back yard next to the pool. She did everything short of building a heated greenhouse around this thing to keep it alive. Believe it or not, she was remarkably successful. Every fall she would wrap the tree, put a chicken wire cage around it and fill it with leaves for insulation. This was apparently enough to keep the roots from dying, and even though the dead branches had to be cut back every year, we had it for probably a decade. It never did well enough to flower, and while disappointed, she was proud of it anyway. At some point it got too big for chicken wire
* and a particularly harsh winter ended the grand
experiment. I guess you can't fight Mother Nature, although my own mother would have argued that point.
The Quest
could get you in trouble with the law on
occasion. How, you ask? Well, it's like this -- "free" means different things to different people, and there's a fine line between "free" and "free, as long as nobody cares and/or you don't get caught."
When I was probably 15 or so, my mother and I were driving back from the store one day. Suddenly, my mother shouted what sounded to me like, "Lou Pins! There's Lou Pins!" I didn't know who this Lou guy was, but before I knew it we were pulled over on the shoulder of the highway, 15 minutes from our house. My mother got out of the car and ran a short way up a hill and examined some small, blue flowers growing in the sandy soil near a scrub pine. The next thing I know, my mother is back in the car. "We have to go get some pots and a shovel," she said excitedly. "Those are
lupines growing
right there on the side of the road."
That was my introduction to
Lupinus perennis. Wild blue lupines. The way my mother was acting, I figured these flowers had to be so valuable they could be used as currency in a post-
apocalyptic world. I went along for the ride. The Quest was not to be denied.
Thirty minutes later, we were back at the hill, and my mother was furiously filling pots and buckets with the bright blue flowering plants. She had about ten pots full, and was in the process of placing them in the trunk when the police car rolled up behind us, flashed its siren and lights briefly, then stopped.
The trooper got out of the car and walked up to us. "Ma'am, can I ask what you're doing?" he said.
"We're just collecting some wild flowers, officer. We saw them growing here on the side of the road," my mother replied.
"Are you aware that this is state land, and it's illegal to remove plants from state land without a permit?" he asked.
"No, I wasn't aware of that," my mother said.
"And those plants you're digging up? Do you have any idea what they are?"
"Yes, officer, they're lupines." my mother said.
"Those are
wild blue lupines, and they're an endangered plant species in New York," he said.
"Ah, I didn't know that."
This was getting better and better. Damn this cop and his bottomless botanical knowledge. I wondered if my mom would forgive me if I just bolted for the woods.
He continued. "Those flowers? They are the
sole food source for the
karner blue butterfly caterpillar, which is
also endangered."
Entomology, too? WTF.
At that point I was thinking about our single phone call, because I was sure my dad would be bailing us out.
So far, we had removed plants from state land --
strike one. The plants we had dug up were endangered plants -
strike two. The endangered plants were the sole food source for an endangered butterfly --
steeeeee-rike three, and that's the game. I felt like we were being busted for running drugs across state lines.
My mother explained to the cop that she had no idea what she did was illegal; the cop said ignorance of the law is no excuse. He then explained about the various fines for just about all of our activities that day, and then after he had scared us, he took pity on us. Instead of tossing us in the back of his cruiser and impounding our car, he simple instructed us to immediately replant what we had removed, and promise to never do it again. We complied with both requests and made our home without further incident.
Wasted time and effort aside, we had a good story for the supper table that night. My father just shook his head, knowing that only my mother could get herself in so much trouble so quickly with nothing but her love for brightly colored flowers and a small shovel.
From that moment on, my father let my mother buy whatever she wanted for the yearly landscaping. I think he figured it was probably cheaper than hiring a lawyer.
Happy mother's day, Mom. I hope that wherever you are, they have lots of flowers.
*Too Big for Chicken Wire -- my next band name.
Posts
