The Semi-Adventures of a Nomadic Mathematician Rotating Header Image

Catnip Apocalypse

Most of my catnip passed away. In fact, they died in a prolonged agony, longing for water, longing for care. I am to blame: I had a two-week research stint in Geneva, and I thought that catnip could take anything, that the trials and tribulations of life left catnip untouched. I was wrong. I returned to discover the corpses of my once splendid catnip.

The decaying carcasses of young catnip shots.

The decaying carcasses of young catnip shots.

Like in most major disasters that do not involve any aircraft, there were survivors. The biggest pot containing my oldest plantation survived. I rejoice at their presence and we weep together at the loss. The deceased were all talented catnip with a bright future, and we should declare the 31st of January the International Day of Catnip to remember the cataclysm and to avoid repeating the same mistake.

It is unclear whether the surface area, the depth of the pot, or the volume of soil made the difference for the survivors. I conjecture that it was the volume of the soil. Given that the sphere has the largest volume for smallest surface, I find it upsetting that the pots on sale are all some kind of truncated cones, with the tapering side pointing down. This arrangement clearly facilitates the death of your favourite bit of vegetation. The time is ripe to start producing spherical pots in which catnip can thrive. Finally I have a reason to get a 3D printer.

While my young shots of catnip were in their death throes, I busied myself with shivering in the horrific climate of Switzerland. While there, I made a most unusual horticultural discovery. I spotted bamboo growing near the Group of Applied Physics. I never associated bamboo with Europe or with physicists, but the phenomenon definitely deserves further investigation.

Bamboo grows 67 meters left to this statue.

Bamboo grows 67 meters left to this statue.

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