The Curse of the Man-Thing! Rictor & Clea
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xp_logsRictor brings home a new flower he got from work, courtesy of his boss's granddaughter, and Clea helps him plant it.
At the rate the greenhouse was growing, it threatened to take over the whole mansion grounds. But that did not stop Clea and Rictor from collecting everything they could find. Today's new installation, courtesy of Hordeculture, was an unusual lily. The plant he had seen at the store had a tall green stalk with long, slender, weeping white petals crowning a ring of string-like stamens.
"It looked like an American swamp lily," Rictor mused as he searched for a pot in which to plant the tennis ball–sized bulb he had been given. "Augusta's granddaughter Harriet brought it from Florida. It has not grown well but she did at least manage to get a couple of these bulbs from it. I think you and I can discover how to care for it, though."
"It is so pretty." Clea said as she looked at the flower closely. "If it is an American swamp lily, they love wet soil. We'll make sure this lovely specimen will grow." She gently reached out to touch the stem and felt a familiar shock. It was of the magic kind. Tilting her head and gently touched it again and nothing. Shrugging it off thinking it was the magical plants that were growing in the other greenhouse next door.
"That is very nice of Harriet." She straightened up. "Maybe we should convert a small portion of the greenhouse into a water garden. I am assuming a swamp lily really would flourish with that kind of environment." She looked around. "Maybe Kyle can help expand. He already helped with the newest greenhouse."
A boggy water garden would be suitable for a variety of Yucatec rainforest plants, so Rictor was in full favor of that project. "I searched for growing conditions for a swamp lily," he said, setting a clay pot on the table before turning to the various bags of soil to decide which to use. "Wet, like you said. Partial shade. Acidic and high calcium concentration. Harriet and Ms. Augusta tried those, but it was still withering. The dirt told me it wanted more phosphate and, oddly, sulfur, and I think it needs to be watered much more, too. Very strange for a lily, no?"
Clea frowned slightly and looked at the plant, "Sulfur? Don't worry, you are in the hands of two greenthumbs, one who happens to be a witch." She turned back to Rictor, "We do have some sulfur on the storage shelf." She checked to see if she could see anything else that could be wrong with the plant just by looking at it. "A bit of yellow on the tip of the leaves, so you are right, not enough sulfur. What have they been doing to you little one?" Clea took out her phone to take a picture of it, "What kind of soil did they use before? Also, when we use the sulfur, we'll want to be careful not to get it on the other plants. I don't want to burn the others from them getting too much."
"Los dos somos brujos," Rictor corrected her under his breath. He plucked a small bag of sulfurous fertilizer from the bag Clea had indicated, and set about mixing that with a phosphate-rich one. "Harriet did not say, but I have a feeling she picked this from the Everglades swamp herself. Which is illegal, but more importantly, ecologically dangerous. And without knowing the natural growing conditions, we have to guess. But I bet Ms. Augusta and the others will let her know what they think of breaking the rules of a national park," he added with a chuckle.
"Innocent until proven guilty." Clea responded to Harriet doing something illegal. She didn't hear the mumble or she would be horrified at her own mistake. "Okay trial and error then. We'll just have to try our best and rely on the internet to give us more information. I hope we can get it to bloom."
"Of course we can! If not us, then nobody." Satisfied with the pot, Rictor gently extracted the bulb from its temporary bed and transferred it to what he hoped would be a permanent one. Once it was settled, he pulled off a glove and rested his hand on the soil. "It seems good for now, but we should check often. Then I can compare with Harriet's plant."
"We can take turns as well if one of us is busy." Clea nodded. "And I'll reach out to Kyle again to see if we can extend the greenhouse to add a water garden. Want to be part of that planning?"
"Obviously I do. You can't leave me out of that." He grinned at her, hoping that and his light tone would belie his irritation at even being considered to be left out of this work. All the time he had put in here, his participation should have been a given. "Plus, it will be something new to work on," he said, redirecting his mind from those uncharitable thoughts to, well, other uncharitable ones. "I did confess I am a mutant to everyone, including Harriet. It's the only way I could explain how I knew what to do. So we will see how much longer I still have a job."
"Brilliant. I was hoping you would say that." Clea with a smile before it faded. "It will be their bloody loss then. You are an amazing, talented person." Clea reached over and put her hand on his shoulder. "Did they act differently to you when you told them?"
He shrugged. "I don't think so. Miss Edith didn't change my nickname from 'cabana boy' to something about mutants, and Miss Lily said something about my butt and conchas, so I think they're still just a little racist and not anti-mutant. It's nice to have that, I suppose."
"Bloody hell." Clea looked at him with a mixture of horror and shock. "Glad they aren't anti-mutant but still. If you need anything, anything at all. I am always here. I don't mind throat punching anyone that says anything to you that you don't like."
Rictor chuckled at that. For all her skill and power, he was not sure even Clea could claim victory over the Hordeculture quartet. Abuelas all over the world have power that no youth can overcome. That's just facts.
"It's fine, really. They're elders, they have their way of seeing the world that's different from us. They just think they are being funny."
Clea eyed him for a moment and sighed, "Elders set in their ways." She wasn't going to push the subject if he wasn't too bothered by it. "Do you want to get food? My treat."
There were more important things to be worried about than some old ladies making crass comments at his expense. For example, showing them and Harriet and even Clea that he was the most capable botanist of them all. After triple-checking that the possibly illicit flower was safe and comfortable in its new home, Rictor nodded, satisfied. "Tacos?"
At the rate the greenhouse was growing, it threatened to take over the whole mansion grounds. But that did not stop Clea and Rictor from collecting everything they could find. Today's new installation, courtesy of Hordeculture, was an unusual lily. The plant he had seen at the store had a tall green stalk with long, slender, weeping white petals crowning a ring of string-like stamens.
"It looked like an American swamp lily," Rictor mused as he searched for a pot in which to plant the tennis ball–sized bulb he had been given. "Augusta's granddaughter Harriet brought it from Florida. It has not grown well but she did at least manage to get a couple of these bulbs from it. I think you and I can discover how to care for it, though."
"It is so pretty." Clea said as she looked at the flower closely. "If it is an American swamp lily, they love wet soil. We'll make sure this lovely specimen will grow." She gently reached out to touch the stem and felt a familiar shock. It was of the magic kind. Tilting her head and gently touched it again and nothing. Shrugging it off thinking it was the magical plants that were growing in the other greenhouse next door.
"That is very nice of Harriet." She straightened up. "Maybe we should convert a small portion of the greenhouse into a water garden. I am assuming a swamp lily really would flourish with that kind of environment." She looked around. "Maybe Kyle can help expand. He already helped with the newest greenhouse."
A boggy water garden would be suitable for a variety of Yucatec rainforest plants, so Rictor was in full favor of that project. "I searched for growing conditions for a swamp lily," he said, setting a clay pot on the table before turning to the various bags of soil to decide which to use. "Wet, like you said. Partial shade. Acidic and high calcium concentration. Harriet and Ms. Augusta tried those, but it was still withering. The dirt told me it wanted more phosphate and, oddly, sulfur, and I think it needs to be watered much more, too. Very strange for a lily, no?"
Clea frowned slightly and looked at the plant, "Sulfur? Don't worry, you are in the hands of two greenthumbs, one who happens to be a witch." She turned back to Rictor, "We do have some sulfur on the storage shelf." She checked to see if she could see anything else that could be wrong with the plant just by looking at it. "A bit of yellow on the tip of the leaves, so you are right, not enough sulfur. What have they been doing to you little one?" Clea took out her phone to take a picture of it, "What kind of soil did they use before? Also, when we use the sulfur, we'll want to be careful not to get it on the other plants. I don't want to burn the others from them getting too much."
"Los dos somos brujos," Rictor corrected her under his breath. He plucked a small bag of sulfurous fertilizer from the bag Clea had indicated, and set about mixing that with a phosphate-rich one. "Harriet did not say, but I have a feeling she picked this from the Everglades swamp herself. Which is illegal, but more importantly, ecologically dangerous. And without knowing the natural growing conditions, we have to guess. But I bet Ms. Augusta and the others will let her know what they think of breaking the rules of a national park," he added with a chuckle.
"Innocent until proven guilty." Clea responded to Harriet doing something illegal. She didn't hear the mumble or she would be horrified at her own mistake. "Okay trial and error then. We'll just have to try our best and rely on the internet to give us more information. I hope we can get it to bloom."
"Of course we can! If not us, then nobody." Satisfied with the pot, Rictor gently extracted the bulb from its temporary bed and transferred it to what he hoped would be a permanent one. Once it was settled, he pulled off a glove and rested his hand on the soil. "It seems good for now, but we should check often. Then I can compare with Harriet's plant."
"We can take turns as well if one of us is busy." Clea nodded. "And I'll reach out to Kyle again to see if we can extend the greenhouse to add a water garden. Want to be part of that planning?"
"Obviously I do. You can't leave me out of that." He grinned at her, hoping that and his light tone would belie his irritation at even being considered to be left out of this work. All the time he had put in here, his participation should have been a given. "Plus, it will be something new to work on," he said, redirecting his mind from those uncharitable thoughts to, well, other uncharitable ones. "I did confess I am a mutant to everyone, including Harriet. It's the only way I could explain how I knew what to do. So we will see how much longer I still have a job."
"Brilliant. I was hoping you would say that." Clea with a smile before it faded. "It will be their bloody loss then. You are an amazing, talented person." Clea reached over and put her hand on his shoulder. "Did they act differently to you when you told them?"
He shrugged. "I don't think so. Miss Edith didn't change my nickname from 'cabana boy' to something about mutants, and Miss Lily said something about my butt and conchas, so I think they're still just a little racist and not anti-mutant. It's nice to have that, I suppose."
"Bloody hell." Clea looked at him with a mixture of horror and shock. "Glad they aren't anti-mutant but still. If you need anything, anything at all. I am always here. I don't mind throat punching anyone that says anything to you that you don't like."
Rictor chuckled at that. For all her skill and power, he was not sure even Clea could claim victory over the Hordeculture quartet. Abuelas all over the world have power that no youth can overcome. That's just facts.
"It's fine, really. They're elders, they have their way of seeing the world that's different from us. They just think they are being funny."
Clea eyed him for a moment and sighed, "Elders set in their ways." She wasn't going to push the subject if he wasn't too bothered by it. "Do you want to get food? My treat."
There were more important things to be worried about than some old ladies making crass comments at his expense. For example, showing them and Harriet and even Clea that he was the most capable botanist of them all. After triple-checking that the possibly illicit flower was safe and comfortable in its new home, Rictor nodded, satisfied. "Tacos?"
