I had phone conversation with my Gr8 last evening. I told her what I had done with my rhubarb.
She told me that her dad, my grandfather, had actually sent the plants to her after Mom and dad were married. They were cuttings from her childhood home. They’ve been doing well all these years. I’ve read that a plant can be productive for up to fifteen years, but Gr8 has been away from home a few more years than that . . . There were a couple of times when they looked like they were petering out, but, we dug up the crowns, divided them, then replanted them. That’s how I got mine, too. Her crop this year is really robust.
Mother also told me that yesterday was her father’s birthday. I never knew that date. Grandpa had passed away before I was born. “He would be 130.”
But . . . who knew I was going to need some new stemware? I might need to purchase a larger glass for the Rhubarb Daiquiri. Thank you Grandfather, (what would you have wanted us to call you?) for the rhubarb and for my mother. A toast to you on the anniversary of your birth. I’m very fond of your youngest child and your daughter’s children, grandchildren, and great-granddaughter are taking good care of her.