elizabethlevett

I’m guilty of a crime. Here’s what happened.

I’m walking down one of the lovely streets in our neighborhood with a friend and I stop in front of one very nice house. It’s one of those that’s been recently re-done, with new people living there. Next to the front steps is a beautiful, robust, glorious coral geranium in a huge pot. The stems reach up at least three feet and are full to bursting with the sunny little blossoms. Now here’s the thing. I adore geraniums. I have lots of different kinds in my garden – mostly the native, true geraniums, “cranesbill,” from the tiny robertianum and the delicate pink richardsonii, another with dark burgundy flowers whose origin I can’t recall, and one of those wonderful rose-scented geraniums that I keep in a deep blue pot. This coral fella is actually a pelargonium, but let’s don’t split hairs. I had one of the coral ones in a beautiful big pot for a while and it looked like something you’d have on the veranda of your Italian villa overlooking the sea. (Sigh.) For some reason it got leggy and later even the cuttings didn’t amount to anything. There was an eventual mercy termination.

So I say to my walking buddy. “Wow, what a beauty! I wish I could just take a tiny cutting home and start a new one. This guy looks so healthy.” “Do it,” she says, “they probably won’t even notice.” “Oh no, I couldn’t, that’s just not right,” I say. We go back and forth like this several times. Finally I look at her and for an instant there’s a faint suggestion of Morricone music in the background and a glint in her eyes that speaks of danger (maybe it’s the mask). Anyway, I find a tiny little bit that’s branching off just there at the top, just a quick little pinch and – “Hey, did you just steal a piece of that plant?!!” We look up and there’s a young man sticking his head out of an upstairs window. He sounds positively horrified. I am instantly contrite. 

A younger version of me would have cut and run. A younger version of me would have been cute enough to get away with it. Also, just speaking of changes in the neighborhood, a younger me lived in a time when people didn’t necessarily become positively horrified if you pinched a small cutting from a huge geranium. But we won’t quibble.

“Yeah. I did. I shouldn’t have. I’m really sorry,” I say, hoping this is the end of it.

“Don’t tell me,” he shouts, “tell my wife! It’s HER plant!”

Just then the front door opens and on the steps is a petite woman, largely pregnant, in a soft pink tunic, grey leggings, and a navy blue mask. She is visibly shaken. “Did you just do something to my plant?” “I did,” I say, “I’m sorry. I took this little cutting. I wanted to start one at home.”

She’s positively horrified. She starts crying and shouting. “I can’t believe it. It’s so hard to grow any street plants here!” More crying. “I’m so, so sorry. I really am,” I say, “is there any way I can make this up to you? Is there anything I can do for you?” I ask. Fool of world. She starts up again, “I just can’t believe you did this!” “I’m very sorry,” I say again. “It’s okay,” she says but she’s still pretty upset. I try to calm her down a little more, “Well, actually it seems it’s not okay. It was a violation and you’re upset. I really didn’t mean to do any harm.” My friend is also apologizing this whole time saying she put me up to it. But I was the one that did it. At some point the husband comes down the stairs, possibly concerned because she’s yelling enough to get all the neighbors looking in our direction. Maybe he wants to take a turn yelling at us too. She sees him and actually pushes him back inside! I say, “he’s a good man. He’s looking out for you.” At this she huffs, thereby losing some of my compassion for her.

Eventually we leave. I could have just told myself these people really over-reacted to a small thing and perhaps an urban neighborhood like ours may not be the best place for them to have decided to settle and start a family. I could tell myself they might have been arguing just before the whole geranium thing went down. I could tell myself she’s full of crazy pregnancy hormones and papa’s is a tad on the over-protective side. I could even tell myself it’s possible they were dealing with any number of other issues. Everybody is right now. But it’s is a crime to take something from somebody and I did it. So I go around the corner and find a very nice card with a woodcut on it of a pigeon carrying a bent flower in its beak. It says “SORRY.” My friend and I write messages on the card and stick it in the mail slot of the horrified people’s front door, glancing longingly at the gorgeous coral geranium. (I did put the little cutting in water when I got home You never know. Shhh, don’t tell on me.)