Dirigo

Cinnamon plant

On trying to grow true cinnamon: Cinnamomum verum  (formerly Cinnamomum zeylanicum, till the council decided that a name change would greatly benefit the world in some small, practically intangible way) is not easy to grow in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. Maybe it doesn’t like saline mists. Poor baby. I like the sort of plant you can have shipped from some faraway place, such as Maine or–well, I can’t think of another place, so let’s just say from the jungles of Maine, near Quebec, where a spattering of French is sometimes heard spoken by local magistrates–and, in some unscheduled tempest, the carton containing jungle lianas and the like, falls into the sea and gets tossed around–only to later be discovered by a tribe of wobbly pygmies, whose idea of sartorial excellence centers around the artful arrangement of bits of tawny rope on  their person, accentuating flabby protuberances of soft, pygmy flesh, deemed immoral by the captain of the containership tasked with transporting exotic flora to undisclosed ports, who is now captive and tied to a rubber tree, waiting for the large cauldron within his line of sight to heat up and start bubbling, like lava from the pit of the earth;  and later, as a testament to the miraculous work of international couriers–unafraid of hard work or the scepter of cannibalism–the package containing the plants from Sagadahoc, a consignment of man-eating species and various sought-after spices, arrives safely at my doorstep.

 

If you found this 250 word post confusing, opaque, and irreverent, a 1,000 word story of mine called Are You Crazy? will be published with great fanfare on the pages of Flash Fiction Magazine on July 24. Do the math and you will conclude that the new story will be four times as confusing as this post on cinnamon, the stuff on your Kellogg’s Apple Jacks cereal. Full disclosure: I get a small kickback in the form of a free cereal box every millennium or two just for mentioning Kellogg.

Then there’s this ditty–

Slipshod Service

 

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Armada

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Governor’s mansion. Isle of Devils.
A flotilla of pirate ships gathers on Prospero’s island.
After several rounds of cannon fire, the armada disperses.
Breakfast resumes.

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Banana

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https://www.101words.org/dad/

 

The Great Grapes of Wrath

(one of my best books–if only I had tightened up the title I think it could have been big)

Colville's Glory

Garcinia hombroniana, Seashore mangosteen

Seashore mangosteen

Eugenia selloi. a.k.a. Eugenia neonitida, Eugenia nitida, Pitangatuba

Pitangatuba

Myrciaria x – Red Hybrid Jaboticaba, Jaboticaba

Jaboticaba

Malpighia emarginata, Acerola

Acerola

Annona cherimoya, Cherimoya

Cherimoya

Garcinia intermedia, Lemon Drop Mangosteen

Lemon drop mangosteen

Glycyrrhiza glabra, Licorice

Licorice

Morus nigra, Black Mulberry or Blackberry

Black Mulberry or Blackberry

Dionaea muscipula, small infants

Dionaea muscipula

Plukenetia volubilis, Sacha Inchi, Sacha Peanut, Mountain Peanut or Inca-peanut

Inca Peanut, Jungle Peanut

funereal

Prospero Dae

http://www.101words.org/pearly-eyes/

Garcinia humulis

mangosteen family Garcinia humulis

Having gone to the hardware store and having seen a packet of seeds emblazoned with the name Garcinia humulis, achingly displayed next to Detroit beets and plentiful packets of Nantes Scarlet Carrots, I say to myself confidentially–why not?

Purchase in hand, I fetch the mules and ride back to the farm, place the tiny seeds in a dirt patch (tiny is a relative term–most seeds are tiny when compared to the megalomaniacal coconut), cover with volcanic ash, wait impatiently for rain, heavy dew, or tears from a grief-stricken angel, and, several headaches later, there is a tree in the mangosteen family to boast about.

Mangosteen family Garcinia humulis

Ceropegia stapeliiformis var. serpentina

Ceropegia

Some people grow petunias, others cultivate Ceropegias.
Some people read E. L. James, others read William Faulkner.