I hope ginseng poachers don't read my blog. But if'n they do, I sure as hell ain't gonna tell 'em where my lovely patch grows which is NOWHERE NEAR Valle Crucis. Just yesterday, a poacher raided a slope with several plants I had been keeping my eye on for several years. There were 4 or 5 four-pronged mother plants. Surrounding each were plenty of healthy youngins. The poacher a.k.a. thieving wildcrafter took the berries, roots and all the babies. I nearly cried. Afterward I tore through the woods despite it being the season of spiders, snakes and poison ivy and collected as many berries as I could find. spent a good portion of the evening stratifying ginseng seeds.
"Look! It's Marie vs The Poachers again," exclaimed my husband.
And if'n you poachers do read my blog, then rest assured I find the word 'poacher' way too kind a word to describe such filth...And my snakecharmer is loaded.
On the inside of the home front:
Years ago I told my girls I expected them to keep their rooms free of breeding diseases. But I forgot to mention that this included the farming of fruit flies. Somewhere within the inner sanctum of my youngest child's bedroom is a tiny morsel of food which feeds a cast of thousands of Drosophila. After entering her room and witnessing the mating of fruit flies on her mirror, my virgin eyes begin to fill with tears. I'm not sure if this was disgust so much as the vinegary fumes simply overwhelmed me. But youngest had crossed the Mother drawn line in the sand and tonight I am happy to report her room is now clean--errr, cleaner.
(Note to my own mother: Do not even compare me to her. Mt. Much More was a tame bump in the road compared to this Invasion of Drosophilia.)