Harvest

Submitted for our Harvest theme

Cultivating Danger

By Kari Strutt

“See that,” I tell visitors to my back yard, pointing to the seven foot stalk with enormous leaves and spiny seed balls, “THAT’ll kill ya’.”  

I say the phrase in an Australian accent, because the first ten times I heard the phrase, that’s how it was spoken.

It was years ago. The father of my then boyfriend led me through his Brisbane garden, pointing out the indigenous plants. Occasionally he’d stop to stomp then methodically grind some delicate, often beautiful crawling creature under the hard heel of his Dingo boot. 

“See that,” he’d point to the smear of ruddy goo, “black house-spider. “THAT’ll kill ya.”

Turns out, you can’t swing a dead cat in Australia without smacking something that’ll kill you.  On land, in the water...you’re just not safe. Box jelly fish, cone snails, crocs and sharks, spiders, snakes...they even have a poisonous earthworm.

I ate up that Australian danger. I rock climbed despite the poisonous spiders. I swam with manta rays without giving a thought to the box jelly-fish. I drove the dark highway between Sydney and Brisbane, dodging giant red kangaroos. I was courageous then.

I am less so now. I don’t know if it is age, or wisdom, or having so much to lose, but I shy away from the things that scare me. There are days when I long to be that courageous iteration of self. 

I think that’s why I bought the Castor bean plant. 

It was a little runt of a thing, struggling in a dry pot, in the heat of a Lacombe greenhouse. It was not much more than a foot tall, leaves like rhubarb, but thicker, and glossier.  “Who are you?” I asked, squinting to read the fine print on the white, plastic tag.

Castor Bean Plant (Ricinus communis): Caution, the seeds of this plant are poisonous. 

The phase “See that... THAT’ll KILL ya!” came unbidden into my consciousness. I took the runt home. 

As cyanide is to the almond, so is ricin to the castor bean, a lethal compound, hidden in a skin of a seed. Just ten beans to kill a man, four to kill a child.  

Castor beans plants have male and female flowers on the same plant. I name my plant Terry, because Pat too obvious. 

I have a plant named Terry. A plant that kills.

Terry flourishes without much help from me, quickly grows to seven feet, sprouts enormous healthy leaves ribbed with blue-red veins, heavy with bulky flowers and seed pods, four dozen beans at least. 

I know that, under my kitchen sink, there are three fluids at least as lethal as castor beans, and seven even deadlier poisons in the garage. I respect their toxicity.  But the Terry, alive and thriving in the back yard, reminds me keeping company with danger, no matter how slight, keeps me whole.