Like most legends of immortality (vampires, Frankenstein's monster, etc.), this tale begins with a "story" that Robb heard: the story of the immortal pepper plant.
You see, Robb has a buddy in Detroit who grew pepper plants in his yard one year, and he decided at the end of the season to dig them up, put them in pots, and keep them in his house over the winter. Apparently, despite the cold and/or the dryness and insufferable heat of the radiator, they lived all winter long. Come springtime, he moved them outdoors again, where they were bigger, more robust, and even spicier than they had been before!
So, with the urgency and high hopes of a gold miner in 1849, we got out the shovel and dug up the pepper plants.
Here is a hole where a pepper plant once was!
Truth be told, it IS November 17, and by all accounts, these plants should be shriveling and dying. And yet, there they were, still producing big scary hot peppers, the leaves still green and robust, the stalks strong and woody. I mean, they're like little decorative trees! So we thought, it's now or never. If we're going to do this experiment, we should do it now, while they're still healthy and happy.
We put one in our living room. (It's big, right?)
And two in our bedroom. (Talk about spicing things up!)
Truth be told, we have no idea if this experiment will work. When we mention the transplant to most people, they give us sort of a pitying look, wondering why we are trying to mess with the natural cycle of life this way. Have we watched Young Frankenstein too many times? I don't know. But come springtime, we'll see who's laughing!
OK, and I know this has nothing to do with the immortality of pepper plants, but right after we dug them up, we also hung this chandelier in our living room. We love it! It was made for us by Robb's dear old friend, Andy Kem. Yes, he MADE this. Isn't that bananas? If you, yourself, would like to check out his amazing handmade light fixtures and furniture, click here.