Six years. That’s how long it has been since I lopped the top off a fresh pineapple and planted it in the ground. For six years, I’ve dreamed of eating pineapple grown with my own two hands. It’s not an impossible dream. Remember… I live in Houston, and we’re considered a sub-tropical zone. I grow bananas in my back yard. It shouldn’t be a stretch to grow a pineapple. Logistically.
I have a special relationship with my pineapple plant. I’ve nurtured and protected it for six long years. I’ve babied it. I’ve watered it. I’ve even moved it inside when temperatures dipped close to freezing and wrapped it in a warm blanket. I’ve treated my pineapple plant better than some people treat their pets (shame on them, by the way). I also talk to my pineapple plant. In the beginning, it was “Good morning, pineapple plant!” After a few years, it was “Lookin’ good!” But for the past year, it has been “I want my baby pineapple!” Someone (me, I guess) failed to tell my pineapple plant that the average wait time – from planting to producing – is about 20 months. That’s what the Ag Department for the state of Hawaii says. And when held to the Hawaiian standard, my pineapple plant is a late bloomer. A very late bloomer.
And that makes this announcement even sweeter. On Easter Sunday, The Complete Package looked down into the center of the pineapple plant and declared it “with child.” That’s right, friends. We are expecting! We kept the faith. We kept watering. We never gave up. And after 6 long years, it may finally happen. We appear to have a pineapple bloom sprouting. Check this out:
I’ll be posting occasional photos as our baby grows. If you’re a pineapple expert and this bloom is NOT a baby pineapple, please feel free to leave a comment telling me I’m an idiot. It won’t be the first time. Or even the second. But until then, I remain eternally optimistic.