I’ve found that carrying some of my childhood assumptions into adulthood has caused me significant challenges.
You knew that I’m talking about mint plants, right?
In my childhood, there was a mint plant by our front steps that was so spindly and yellow that I assumed mint was a weak plant that needed tender care.
Fresh mint
So when we moved to our current home and I was choosing plants for the front flower boxes, I picked up a lone mint plant out of nostalgia. I lifted the tiny plant to my face at the store, and solemnly promised to care for it better than the one from my childhood.
This was an amazing promise considering I can cause the death of plastic plants.
But I am happy to report that I kept my promise. That single mint plant took over the entire flower bed in two years.
My mind went back to the spindly mint plant from my youth. The one that stood alone in the shade of the house with no other plants around it.
Yeah, the mint had grown in a plot closely akin to the far side of the moon. Nothing else could grow there.
About that time, I learned that there are many varieties of mint. Peppermint. Spearmint. Lemon mint. Chocolate mint. And they like to cross-pollinate, which probably means they then grow even faster. Can you imagine if you planted lemon mint close to spearmint and all the baby mints grew up to taste like……mint?
I discovered in my research that there is a variety called woolly mint. You can’t make this stuff up. Well, I could, but I didn’t this time. It’s also known as apple mint, which begs the question of how apple and woolly are synonyms.
Mint is considered a little invasive. Like kudzu is a little invasive. Or mosquitoes. Chilling, isn’t it?
H.G. Wells, in his book The War of the Worlds, described a Martian red weed which, in his story, took root on earth and choked out all rivers and swaddled trees and fields. Not unlike mint. He might have based Martian red weed on mint for all I know.
I fear that mint left untended could take over entire neighborhoods. I hope my neighbors aren’t reading this or they might start dumping zucchini at my doorstep.
I can imagine a movie coming: Invasion of the Spearmint. Or maybe The Woolly Mint Cometh. Not sure which one might grab the most viewers. My guess is neither.
My single mint plant is now in a contained area where its family still tries to conquer the grass on the other side of the barrier.
One summer evening, we had a violent rain and hailstorm roll through. Afterward, we stepped outside to the pungent smell of mint in the air.
“Oh, no! ” My daughter said. “I hope the hail didn’t kill the mint.” She takes after that naive child in me.
My son drew in a minty breath. “An atomic bomb couldn’t kill that mint.”
