Rhubarb, one tough old gal

Ahhh, reproduction. Who could forget fifth grade with its squirm-worthy talk of budding and asexual reproduction and new boobs and busy bees? Back then, nary a day passed without the girls getting herded off to the gym and the boys skulking down to the art room to hear promises of puberty, and treats and terrors to come.

But those seasons, they go round and round and now here we stand firmly on the other side. We’ve seen for ourselves from whence babies come, and those babies have themselves come home from school bearing their own dixie cups of sprouted peapods in hand.

It seems that although puberty is (thankfully) a thing of my past, I still don’t know all there is to know about baby-making. Just this spring I happened upon a new term of reproduction: propagate. As in, come on Billy-Bob, let’s get down and dirty and start propagatin’. Which brings me to rhubarb. We inherited one old plant.

Tough gal. Despite considerable overcrowding and our laissez-faire gardening approach, she bore us plenty that first year. We were cruel, ignoring her unless a hankering for rhubarb crumble reared up and demanded we pluck her plentiful stalks. However, when our neighbor poured concrete to reset his fence posts smack dab on top of her, my mothering instincts kicked in. It was time to save Rhubarb.

I searched online, followed some directions, and wham! bam! I made me some baby rhubarbarinos. You heard it here first–propagating is the wave of the future. And rhubarb? Oh, I have plenty to say about rhubarb. I’m just getting started. You’ll hear more about our old gal for sure.

Grab a cigar by the way, congratulations are due: Look what our tough mama created: Seven little rhubarb-arinos. Come on, aren’t they cute?

(Cute, yes, and mighty tasty too. Here’s a tasty recipe that has my kids chanting for more rhubarb!)

• Category: Garden
• Tag: propagate, rhubarb