Living in the tropics is like being an extra in a road show of Little Shop of Horrors. There are nascent Audreys at every corner.
When I was out playing Sherlock Holmes in the compost pile the other day, I stepped back with my camera to get get a shot of my volunteer corn stalk, and nearly was toppled by the spike in this photograph. I thought the garden had been invaded by a gargantuan asparagus stalk.
The spike was not there a day or two ago. And now it is almost as tall as I am. Mind you, that is a bit like saying it is world-famous in Poland.* I do not hit the towering scale in height. Even though I am taller than most of my neighbors.
Unless I am mistaken, the plant is an aloe. It has some cousins on the other side of the garden that put up giant candelabra of flowers that are visited nightly before the spike and the plant pass on to the great plant composter in sky. For these plants, the act of reproduction is a climax without a second act -- just like being a male praying mantis.
I hope that I am going to get to see another tropical flower show before I head across the Atlantic to see the old country. With two weeks left here, there are undoubtedly plenty of goings-on to share.
I guess we will find out when each day gets here.
* -- Why do I always think of Rula Lenska whenever I use that line?
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