Clipped radish becomes a celeb
There’s a new media darling in Japan, one the Japanese have
taken to with a passion that has millions following its life saga
in daily developments.
Clipped radish becomes a celeb
There’s a new media darling in Japan, one the Japanese have taken to with a passion that has millions following its life saga in daily developments.
The superstar? A large radish.
According to a report from BBC News, the daikon – a mild white radish that is a staple in Japanese cuisine – has captured the imagination of the public.
The radish was discovered pushing its way through street pavement in the town of Aoi. Impressed by the radish’s stalwart constitution, nearby residents named the vegetable “Dokonjo Daikon,” or the radish with the fighting spirit.
It’s clear that it’s a genuine celebrity, because it has its own Web site.
The radish’s tale took a dramatic turn recently when an unnamed assailant chopped the top of the radish off. The outpouring of sympathy across Japan prompted the radish hacker to return the top of the vegetable whereupon the town council set to work in an attempt to revive the heroic root vegetable. The council has commissioned scientists to attempt to extract seeds – or, at least, DNA – from the stricken condiment in the hope of sprouting more vegetables with attitude.
It’s not April 1 and I’m not making this stuff up.
Modern Japan remains a very foreign place to us, but the lesson of that radish is familiar to any gardener. Plants do not always behave in predictable ways.
David Aurora’s definitive field guide to West Coast fungus, “Mushrooms Demystified,” includes a photograph of a mushroom sprouting from the kapok lining of a kitchen chair.
I’ve often observed that the difference between a yard and a garden is that in a garden, the plants have a vote in what goes where. When something lands in a spot where it thrives, that becomes its home. As a result, we’ve re-arranged the living furniture in our garden countless times. The fig tree that began life in the back of the house now sits right out front on the corner. Roses have moved and moved again.
Violets carpet the shady corners, spreading like fire on the prairie but quickly dying back in the sunny spots.
We learned long ago that most plants do not mind being manhandled and moved. My grandmother would pack a trowel on trips to the country, digging up a wildflower from time-to-time. Most of those made it back into the garden just fine.
Some plants do resist being moved. Bougainvillea are notorious for overreacting by dying when their roots are disturbed. Daphne odorata are among my favorites. This time of year, a single shrub can perfume a whole garden with its citrus-like perfume.
Spring time
Ignore the rain that’s been soaking our hills and valleys. Ignore the calendar, too. It’s springtime. For the past few days I’ve been watching American Crows carrying nesting material outside my office window. Bushtits are twittering around our garden, probably the same pair that built an elegant sock-shaped nest there last spring.
Along Hwy. 25 between Hollister and Gilroy, Red-winged Blackbirds are perched prominently, displaying their crimson wing patches in an attempt to woo a mate. It could not be clearer: spring has sprung.
