Linnaeus Bound

Ah, springtime in Tulsa! Cercis canadensii (redbuds) in bloom, soft breezes laced with the sweet, smoky fragrances of Schizachryiam scoparium (little bluestem), Andropogon gerardium (big bluestem), Tridens flavius (purpletop), and other grasses all engulfed in flame on the surrounding tallgrass prairies, and Asteracaea taraxacum (dandelions) popping open like the photographer’s umbrellas in Woodward Park, which is where we decided to go this Sunday morning and visit poor old Linnaeus, confined there in his specially constructed cell.

What had poor Linnaeus done to get locked up in Tulsa County? We wondered among ourselves as we dashed across busy 21st Street and zigzagged through stands of Photographium nikonii and the pastel rows of Bridalis pseudovirginii. Maybe it was the sheer audacity of presuming to name the flowers. Isn’t that God’s work, after all? Was one of our powerful faith-based institutions behind Linnaeus’s imprisonment?

We climbed the stone steps (provided by Pavestone, as pointed out by a helpful sign attached to the stone) of the entrance to the Linnaeus Teaching Garden. Maybe they were just teaching him a lesson. We strode down the paved promenade (donated by Pavestone, we were reminded by another helpful sign about six feet from the first one), along the low, bench-lined wall (contributed, according to a series of more helpful signs along the way, by Pavestone), and up to Linnaeus’s cell, which was padlocked (Masterlock, we believe), so we could not visit the old fellow. According to a sign on the cell wall (yes, Pavestone), his visiting hours are 10:00 -4:00 TUES -SAT. This would seem to limit his visitors mostly to well-dressed ladies of a certain social position with a passion for gardening, or rather, for gardening tools.

We could see him through the bars, no doubt whiling away his months and years systematically naming and cataloging the many reasons for his wrongful imprisonment. The sound of water splashing over stone (Pavestone?) confirmed what we’d heard about a modest enclosed garden attached to Linnaeus’s cell, in which he was allowed to putter. A humane act by his keepers, we had to admit, but on the other hand we couldn’t help wondering if sweet mornings like this one in his garden behind bars might make Linnaeus’s Aprils all the crueler. Since we all have dayjobs, we may never get to ask the old fellow himself.

We could always go to work for Pavestone. Maybe they open the place up for the Pavestone Employees Annual Company Picnic. We could bring a cake. A cake with a razor-sharp trowel inside.

rlh