III

The plant spirit beings arrive from their dimension, as a vague misty light that hovers by the fireside.

Petunia stares, fascinated, into the dimension bubble they have arrived in. The Comfrey spirit is the first, to step forward out of the mist, to come to talk.

Petunia watches a gnome with a sweet honest face disengage from the Plant Spirit bubble, and come into the limelight. "Well, I just grow where I like to grow."

Petunia asks him, "Well, what about the plants that you are stifling under your long stalks that keep on flopping over, covering the other plants around you."

Comfrey Spirit looks at Petunia and grins. "What other plants?" he asks her.

Petunia makes a mental note that Comfrey will need to be taught awareness of other plants. How are they going to communicate, if they aren't even aware of one another?

Prof Bolo says: "Now, tell me, what is this I hear, that you can make a plant from any scrap of your roots."

Comfrey grins with pride and acknowledges that this is a gift he has.

"Can you be totally removed from an area?"

"Of course I can. Just you, the humans need to work slowly and carefully, to pick the roots out of the soil you are moving the plant from."

"Thank-you for this insight," Prof Bolo grins back at him.

Comfrey steps back to the edge of the circle as a very foxy lady spirit with a skunk-like tail manifests with great pomp and energy doing some twirls and other dance moves. Who is this gorgeous high energy being, Petunia wonders.

Eventually, the dancing spirit stops to stay in one spot. She strikes up a pose and sighs deeply, dramatically. "I'm suppose to talk, not dance, though truth must be told, I'd rather dance. I'm Poison Ivy, of course. Some people get itchy when they touch me. They get sore spots on their skins," she says matter of factly. "That tends to keep people from walking where I grow. Which, of course, provides room for some of the Little People. Oh, I am necessary in the nature balances around here, let me assure you of that. You humans must start realizing that there is room enough on this planet for all beings."

Prof Bolo asks Poison Ivy, how she can be removed from areas where she grows.

"Why would I want to be removed? Just give me my space and walk around it."

Poison Ivy struts off, to take her place by the circle's edge, looking very indignant beside the oblivious gnome.

Petunia realizes that this is going to be great fun, to meet such diverse, energetic beings. She eagerly surveys the next presenting plant spirit who is ambling in carelessly. Scotch Broom chooses to appear as a handsome young sprite decked out in tartans.

"Well there I was, growing on the fields in Scotland and I couldn't stop wondering what the rest of the world looked like. Anyway, with a little help from angelic realms, I got the idea into the brain of one of the workers at the whiskey packaging plant, that all those dead branches lyin' around y'all consider such a nuisance, would make good packaging material for their product.

Thus it was I hitched a ride to the west coast of North America, to some saloons, you know, the pubs in the middle of gold mining territory, where life was rough and wild. The recieving persons obligingly threw me into the scrap piles behind their buildings. Well, it didn't take long for people to notice me growing there. I've got beautiful blossoms, you know, and these people who stopped to admire me wondered if I would grow along their train track banks. Why wouldn't I? Now that was a free ticket to a lot of places. Suitcases coming and going from all over the place."

Scotch Broom grins to himself.

Petunia gets a picture in her mind of Scotch broom seeds blowing into people's suitcases as they stand on the station platform or catching in the fur of horses and dogs, to travel to new destinations.

"So how do we reduce you to proper proportions?" Pof Bolo asks.

"Ah, just talk to me, I'm pretty easy going," Scotch Broom says, as he moves to the edge of the circle.

Petunia's interest is next captivated by the stern, matronly, very tall, figure strutting forward to center stage. It is clear that she is a teacher coming to instruct a class. Petunia is pretty sure she can see the mostly invisible tusks winking on and off periodically in a very porcine face.

"It's pretty clear, you can all see, that I am Giant Hogweed, aptly named I may say, for as pigs root around in the ground, digging up the roots, so I too root around, only it is the toxins I am removing. It takes time for me to transform them into something that is benign to human touch. Here is the lesson plan."

Petunia watches as a list manifests in the human looking hands of Hogweed spirit and she immediately knows what's on it. Things like: team work, patience, creative management.

"So, what is the best way to handle you?" Prof Bolo asks.

"Cutting and composting. When I have finished cleaning out the harmful energy from the soil, I will be easier for you to handle."

As Hogweed takes her place among the spirits at the edge of the portal, a spinning being emerges from the misty area. Petunia sees a perpetually spinning figure that could be described as white stems wound together with a bouquet of leaves on top.

"Bindweed at your service." There is no indication of any mouth talking, but the message is clear to Petunia.

"I take hold in disturbed soil. Yes, well, I am one of the top ten, most invasive. Giggle-giggle-sigh. You must admit that is not an easy reputation to live up to. But, whatever you humans intend for us, I'm doing my best, at your service."

"So, what sort of management do you respond to?" Prof Bolo asks.

"Vigilant, careful and properly thought out. What you humans don't realize is that plants pick up on your thoughts and attitudes. We simply delight in growing. You encourage us to be invasive and hey, it's what we do."

"Do you have a lifespan?" Petunia is trying to find a way to word her question. She is visualizing an acre large slow mound happening with bindweed growing more and more prolifically each year.

"Yes, as all plant beings do, so we do too. Eventually, in our old age, the bacteria and fungi within our systems start to grow the equivalent of your cancerous tumours and our lifeforce transitions to other plants, other areas."

"How long, in human years, is your lifespan?" Petunia asks.

"Oh, depending. Left to ourselves, several hundred years. With a little human encouragement, we could look at living to be a thousand."

 

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