Answers to important questions
Uncle Wahoo agreed to appear on the Magic Mary Infinite Garden podcast and answer questions about gardening from callers. He is a private person, more comfortable showing up unannounced out of vapor apparently with poignant observations, but Magic Mary offered him freshly dried moringa leaves, so he shrugged, shuffled over atop the stool by the microphone, relaxed his shoulders and sat up straight. His smile was wry but peaceful.
Magic Mary performed podcast magic, and Denise from Shelton, Connecticut, asked, “Why are my yellow and orange flowers called cosmos? I planted a few seeds years ago and now the plants sprout all over the garden every year. They’re everywhere… like the cosmos.”
Uncle Wahoo: “You’re a poet, Denise, and you’re making an important connection. The first part is, yes, cosmos once planted intend to move in. They’re thinking, ‘Okay, we and our descendants will live here now,’ so you and your cosmos must come to an agreement, same as with you and your universe. Cosmos plants are already dropping viable seeds in mid-July, but your question was etymological.”
Dictionarius was an ardent gardener and philosopher back in the day and a member of the Naming Everything Council. When the topic came up for what is the name for everything above us in the sky, Dictionarius observed, “In my garden, cosmos plants if allowed will consume the entire space. Therefore, the name for all that space above us should be cosmos.” Every member of the council smiled, nodded to each other in agreement because they had the same experience.
“Next question.”
Jacquie from Sebastopol, California, asked, “I love morning glory flowers, but the vines take over too much. Why are they called that and what do I do?”
Uncle Wahoo: “You, your morning glories and your universe need to find your happy balance. By necessity, I continually put dozens of morning glory sprouts in the leaf mulch pile, and I leave some to decorate trellises. The vines in my garden bear deep purple flowers that seem to shine from within. I wish I did that. In the past I also had vibrantly pale blue flowers. You have to acknowledge their talents, but the vines will strangle and overwhelm pepper plants and other members of the garden family if allowed. Bummer. Morning glories, like cosmos, need a hall monitor.
“The vines are remarkably aggressive. If a gardener misses a few days in the garden, morning glory vines, in their frenetic, powerful drive to reach the top of the nearest vertical and beyond, will spiral around whatever is the nearest vertical and churn like the locomotive that could toward the sky. You and your garden, Jacquie, will determine where your morning glories grow, and regarding the origin of the name, I refer you to the Akashic records. Calvin and Eddy, the managers, work 8-5 PDT weekdays, and on the weekends a robot will take your message.”
“Next question.”
Noodle in Madison County, Arkansas, asked, “Do I like maypop? It’s new to my garden and it is spreading like morning glories all over a couple tomato plants. It is about to flower, and I heard it has edible fruit. Am I happy about it?”
Uncle Wahoo: “You’re happy if you wanna be. Regarding maypop, however, it’s related to passion flowers, has eye-catching flowers and edible fruit, but it is invasive as you have noticed, and the worst might be yet to come because it also sends out underground runners like spearmint does. Even if it is off by itself, it will spread more than you might expect. Beware. Any other questions?”
Noodle: “There is a turtle in my garden. Is that good or bad?”
Uncle Wahoo: “I wonder how it got inside your fence. Fence-mending might be called for. If it is still in there, give it a name and pay attention. You might learn something. If it is as big as your wheelbarrow, call Game and Fish.
“Thanks for the questions and remember to wash your hands.”