Farewell Spike

an ending and a beginning

If you’ve been following me for a while you know the story of Spike, the agave that Ed brought home from the high school greenhouse when we lived in Indiana. I documented the tale of this baby agave that outgrew its life as midwestern houseplant and moved with us to Arizona, in my first published story (January 2021 issue of the Desert Leaf magazine) and also included it in my first book, Out of the Crayon Box. At the end of the story I wrote:

“Spike is thriving in his new environment. The warm sunshine and blue skies agree with him. I hope he lives long enough to produce a magnificent flower stalk and dies of natural caused like his great-great grand plant before him.”

Ten years passed and Spike continued to grow, but showed no signs of “stalking”…until last January. It was amazing to watch the progress from a tiny nub in the center of the plant to a giant stalk, often growing several inches a day. Spike developed a following as I posted weekly updates on my Facebook page There was no way for us to measure it exactly, but it’s final height was several stories tall. We waited anxiously for the buds to bloom, but an unusually cold spell last winter froze the growth tips.

In the spring, we brought in professional landscapers to cut the dead stalk down. The main portion of the plant continued to stay green for several months, but by summer we knew it was time. Still, we couldn’t bear to part with this silly agave that had symbolized our move to the Southwest, and launched my career as an author.

By December, Spike’s once glorious leaves were brown and droopy. We had to face the fact that Spike had completed his life cycle. This week we called the landscapers back to remove what was left of our agave. From my studio window, I heard saws buzzing as they cut through the tough outer leaves, carefully avoiding the still-sharp points on the leaf tips. The points that got Spike in trouble as a houseplant and gave him his name were still treacherous. It took three men and several shovels to remove the remaining bulb of the plant. I peeked out the window, but in the end, couldn’t bear to watch. Ed saw them put the remains into the trailer to be taken to compost.

Yet, the cycle of life goes on. As a parting gift, Spike had produced a “pup”, a strong and healthy baby plant. Knowing this little plant’s potential, we moved it to a corner, away from the path. Here it can grow as wild as it wants without fearing I will snip off its points. (Your have to read the story to find out how this once got me in big trouble with Spike…and Ed)

A new beginning. This little thing isn’t named yet, but I know in my heart it will be the centerpiece of our desert garden. And if it takes after its parent plant Spike, the stories are sure to continue.

Cue the Charlie Brown Singers….Lu, lu lu….lu,lu.lu.lu.lu.