Molly Ringle

My mom called me the other day to tell me about this Underworld-ish place she suddenly remembered: the Forestiere Underground Gardens in Fresno, California.

A Sicilian immigrant almost a century ago hand-carved rooms and passageways in the hardpan beneath the thin farmland soil, and used it as a living space, a cool refuge from the hot California summer sun. Down there he also planted several fruit trees that could receive sunlight through skylight-type openings above. Fruit trees underground, people! It's my Underworld! It's even designed after the ancient Roman catacombs, so, properly Mediterranean.


Amusing addendum: my mom lived in Fresno in her teen years, and found out about this place when she was out with some friends one night. The guys said to the girls, "We're going to show you this cool place, but you have to tell NO ONE." At the time, the Underground Gardens were just fenced-off territory with "no trespassing" signs around it, so they had to sneak in with flashlights. Apparently most people in the city had no idea it was out there; you can't see much from ground level.

So my mom was late getting home after exploring the place, and her parents demanded to know where she'd been and why she hadn't called. (This was the 1950s, well before cell phones.) She finally broke down and told them about it, begging them not to get anyone in trouble. Her dad (my grandfather) declared, "Daughter, I sell real estate insurance. I know every square foot of this area, and I know there is no such place. Where were you REALLY?"

And that forever remained his final word on it. He never believed her. (He died more than 20 years ago.) But now you can tour the gardens, which really do exist! :)

http://www.undergroundgardens.com/
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Forestiere_Underground_Gardens

Grossest smell of entire week: I hosed out the yard waste cart today. Here in Seattle we get to throw food scraps into the yard waste as well, and we haven't cleaned our bin all summer, so you can imagine the grossness. There was this *sludge* formed at the bottom, which gave off noxious gases as I hosed it out and dumped it on the garden. The cart and the whole yard smelled like the stinkiest of garbage trucks.

So--scent therapy. After burying the sludge in dirt, I threw handfuls of fragrant plants into the yard waste cart: rosemary, lavender, thyme, sweet woodruff. Put my clothes in the wash and had a shower with lemon, bergamot, and grapefruit essential oils sprinkled in the tub, and peppermint soap to wash up with. May have to follow up with a spritz of something clean like L'Eau de L'Artisan.

So. Yes. May your day not involve anything as gross.

Some writers are unable to write a story without including a recipe. Others can't resist reciting song lyrics. Others always insert a dog or a cat or an exotic animal. For me, my random habit appears to be plants--flowers and trees in particular. It isn't intentional, but it's an accurate reflection of my gardening hobby. Here's a quick review of flowers appearing in my novels (we'll do trees some other day):

The Ghost Downstairs
Lots of mentions; the Seattle mansion has a lovely garden, and tending it is among Ren's duties. This may be my favorite flower moment:
"She walked to a clump of daffodils growing at the base of a tree, picked one, and brought it back to the grave. She kissed its petals before dropping it."


Summer Term
Hey, it's summer. Lots of stuff's in bloom:
"But he did say we'd go out into Woodbine Park and eat in the rose garden. That sounds kind of romantic, doesn't it?"
"It sounds suspiciously romantic."


What Scotland Taught Me
Eva is interested in botany and horticulture, and notices violets sprouting in Edinburgh at one point. She also notes regarding one of her crushes:
"...he smelled like that alluring bed of carnations, with a dose of boy pheromones sprinkled on top."


Of Ghosts and Geeks
Paul is Gwen's gardener, so naturally flowers and other green growing things abound. Their first scene together is a skirmish over the little daisies in the lawn:
"They're in the grass. You wanted the grass cut, right?"
"Yes, but not the daisies. They make this gorgeous spangled carpet of--" She stopped before she started comparing her lawn flora to some scene from a fantasy movie. "Don't cut those!" she repeated.


Relatively Honest
This one probably has the fewest number of flower mentions, because my narrator is an 18-year-old urban male who doesn't think about stuff like that. Still, Daniel does think briefly of making out with his girl-crush "under lilac trees" come April. And when sidling up close to her, he notes:
"Her hair smelled delicious, like apples and the star-shaped white flowers that grew all round a French hotel I had once been to."
(Daniel has no idea that was jasmine, but it was, of course.)


In my novel in progress, a Hades/Persephone story, flowers and other plants play a huge role. After all, in the original myth, what was Persephone doing when Hades kidnapped her? Yep: picking flowers.

Try what I'm doing: growing flowers indoors from seed!



They're still teeny, as you see, but considering I only planted them twelve days ago, they're doing great! (The alyssums started sprouting after just four days.)

I deliberately chose seed packets that said "easy to grow" or "sturdy" or something similar, and leaned toward flowers that will smell good. My chosen plants are nasturtium, alyssum, and dwarf carnation. It's an easy project, and it gives you something to look forward to each day: have they sprouted? How big are they getting? Any flowerbuds yet?

All you need is little pots of some kind, the seeds (very cheap; check a garden center or nursery), room in a relatively sunny window (south-facing is best in winter), and potting soil. And in the case of nasturtiums, they flower best in "poor soil," so you don't even need the latter. Whatever you have in the yard should work.

Try it! Improve your mood and your indoor air quality, just that little smidgen.

The other month we tried some Oreo knockoffs from a brand called Back to Nature. The name spawned many jokes: ah yes, nature, where chocolate sandwich cookies grow on trees. Monkeys flinging them at each other, squirrels carrying them off to their nests. A real bitch when you park your car underneath one, though; the filling smears all over the windshield.

Anyway, that brings up the question of whether "natural" is always better for you. In the case of cookies with some heart-healthy fat instead of Crisco, then yes, I suppose it is.

But when I want to know why we need to clear all the dead leaves away from the garden, justifying my laziness by pointing out that forest floors are covered with dead leaves and are quite fertile and happy, the "nature" argument doesn't quite hold up. Yes, forest floors are covered with dead leaves, and as a consequence they are also crawling with bugs, many of which would love to eat more plants, or hey, move into our house. Since that is not acceptable, I become willing to clear the dead leaves. Thus the difference between a garden and the wilderness.

Similarly, I find myself thinking things like: "It's silly that we shouldn't walk around barefoot for fear of putting too much strain on our feet. We were designed to walk barefoot! Our primitive ancestors must have done it all the time!" To which Anthro brain has to answer: "Yes, and look how long they lived. Why, a good 32, 33 years." Ditto for worrying about how the sun, or tooth decay, or sleeping on uncomfortable surfaces, might hurt us. Since I hope to live a good three times what our hominid ancestors did, I will be trusting in science and technology to help.

Luckily science and technology help bring us cookies. Which, in the case of Back to Nature, are really good. Better than actual Oreos, if you can believe it. You win THIS round, nature...

Thank you to those who helped expand my reading list last entry. I will be following up on your suggestions enjoyably, and maybe even commenting if time allows.

If you want to continue to be helpful, let's play Name That Plant. What is this, which hath sprouted in my garden? ( Flower thing )

Keep in mind I'm in Seattle, therefore it's probably not tropical. For ID help: the flower has no scent that I can detect, nor do the leaves. I wish it weren't pink, but since it's so low-maintenance, it's welcome to stay. Why are so many flowers pink? Oh well.

Want your kitchen to smell good? Buy a small amount of garam masala spice mix from the bulk spice bins at your grocery store. Leave it in a plastic bag on your counter. Voila--whole kitchen permeated with aroma of coriander, cumin, cinnamon, clove, pepper, and whatever else goes into garam masala. At least, that's how it has happened for me.

P.S. I had to delete a Shakespearean greeting using the name "Coriander" just now.