A Tale Of Two Pineapples
Not the ugliest plant you ever saw, but certainly not the most attractive. Representational of the vegetable kingdom in my house, they are what Paul Hindemuth developed as his musical aesthetic, pragmatic and non-imposing. If they could only speak…
Right now they would probably just be gurgling from the overnight rain, but last winter they would have been saying “Ouch!” Their function as houseplant began as a flight of whimsy. I saw a jar of exotic salsa at a local specialty store one day last summer, made with tequila and roasted pineapple. It was Sunday morning, however, and I couldn’t buy it because it had a measurable alcohol content. No problem! No such rules in my house! Not only was there Cuervo Gold, there was also Sauza Hornitos, so all I needed was a pineapple and some other stuff, I forget what.
So I bought a pineapple – damn those things are expensive, and not that easy to core and peel. By the time you’re done, it seems like you’re throwing most of it away. Pragmatic. Outside my door was a large terra cotta pot whose former residents had crossed into the great beyond. In my hand was a pineapple top with just a thin slice of its scalp. I plopped it into the soil and watered it for a couple of weeks, watering it like a bromeliad, pouring water directly into its outstretched leaves. It thrived. Later I added another.
Winter came and all the vulnerable plants came inside. The cats took to the pineapple right away. They liked to rub their chins on the pointed leaves and then they would nibble on them. You can still see the scars they left. More than once, both pineapples were uprooted. I thought they were dead.
When the thaw came, they still were sort of green, so what the hell again, outside they went and I watered them “as if” they were alive. By midsummer they were! They are now thriving. I hadn’t realized how much they’ve grown until a saw a pineapple in the store yesterday with its puny little leaves.
This winter, I will follow Liz’s suggestion and place them on a stand indoors, safely away with the itchy chins of Twyla and Claudette. Who knows what might happen next summer? Maybe a baby pineapple? Wouldn’t that be something!
Oh, yeah, about the roasted pineapple salsa – I probably won’t make it again. There are better uses for tequila.
10:14:48 AM 
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