No Appetite

I grew up along the California coast, where canyons were as common as the waves crashing on the shore. There was a really big canyon across the street from our house, full of eucalyptus trees, shrubs of every kind, fragrant flowers, and a lot of flora. Some fauna too, but most of them avoided my brother and I as we scurried through the canyon playing after school. 

I don’t recall that we actually told our mother where we would be playing outside, and she didn’t ask, so we assumed it was okay. Until it wasn’t.

One afternoon we found a very green plant with feathery stalks. It wasn’t like any of the other plants, which made us very curious. Joey snapped off a bit of a feathery stalk and brought it up to his nose. I watched his eyes light up, like he’d found a secret stash of gold.

“What is it?” I asked, leaning in to get a whiff.

“It’s a licorice plant,” he yelped, thrusting the feathery leaves under my nose. I breathed in one huge sniff and felt shivers run down my arms. It really was a licorice plant. I never knew how licorice was made, nor had I ever thought about it. What I did know was that licorice was one of my favorite candies, and we’d just found the motherlode. We started eating as much of the plant as we could until we figured we better leave some room for dinner. As the light began to wane, we returned home, never mentioning what we’d found.

Nearly every day after school we ventured back into the canyon to find new licorice plants and treat ourselves to an afternoon snack. On one particular day, for a reason I can’t recall, we devoured more of the licorice plant than usual. We stuffed ourselves and slowly slogged home. At dinner that night we didn’t eat much. 

“Why aren't you two eating your dinner?” Mama asked.

We shrugged. “Not hungry,” Joey answered.

“Why not?” she prodded. “You’re always hungry. Did you two eat something and spoil your appetite?”

My brother and I glanced at each other, as though to signal who should answer, because not answering was never okay in our house. He blinked and raised his chin at me, and I knew I had to be the answerer.

“Yes, Mama, we did,” I said in as sweet and innocent of a voice as I could muster, blinking my eyes slowly, my eyes wide open. Though the eye blink and that voice had saved my derriere multiple times, I could see from Mama’s face that my tactics weren’t going to work this time.

She sat up straighter in her chair and stared me down. “What did you eat?”

I rolled my lips inward and glanced around me, stalling for time.

“Answer your mother,” Daddy interjected, his voice stern and business-like.

I looked at him, then back at Mama. “Licorice,” I stated.

“And where did you get licorice, young lady?"

I looked back at my brother, wondering when he was going to chime in or if he was going to let me take all the blame. Suddenly, he piped up.

“We ate it in the canyon,” he volunteered as if it was obvious.

“The canyon?” Mama’s voice rose a notch. “First, what were you two doing in the canyon, and what licorice did you find there?”

My brother and I looked at each other again. We knew we were in trouble.

“We were just walking around,” Joey answered. “And we saw this cool plant with feathery stalks that smelled really good.”

“What does a plant have to do with eating licorice?” Daddy asked, this time his voice a little harsher.

Joey looked at me and I instinctually said, "It was a licorice plant, Daddy!’ 

Daddy and Mama bent their heads, their eyes bulging out as they asked, "What?”

“Licorice doesn’t grow on plants,” Mama stated, mirroring Daddy’s firm tone.

“Yes, it does, sort of,” I said. “The plant tastes just like licorice.”

My parents sat there shaking their heads.

“David,” Mama addressed our father, “will you please go into the canyon tomorrow with these two and see this licorice plant they’re talking about?” She turned to Joey and I. "First, you two are not allowed to go into the canyon alone, ever! Second, tomorrow, you show your father the plant. It could be a dangerous plant. It could be poisonous.”

I don’t recall if it was Joey or I who remarked, “If it was poisonous, wouldn’t we be dead?” Didn’t matter who said it, we were sent to bed immediately. Snarky talking-back was not tolerated in our house.

The next day, we led our father into the canyon and showed him the dozens of feathery licorice plants growing everywhere. We broke off little bits of the feathery leaves and held them up to Daddy to smell. Very gingerly, he bit into the tiny leaves. We watched as his face lit up.

“Kids, I don’t think this plant is poisonous. You’re lucky it’s not. Even so, from here on out you are forbidden from playing, walking, or visiting the canyon. It’s not safe.”

“Why not?” I asked. 

“For one thing, sometimes bad people hide out in the canyons. People who might try to harm you,” he cautioned us, his voice calm and caring.

“We’ve never seen anybody in the canyon,” Joey protested, trying to hang onto our little piece of paradise.

“That’s my point,” Daddy said. “If someone kidnapped you or hurt you, we’d never know. No one would have seen it. And there’s another danger you haven’t considered.”

Joey and I stared at Daddy. What else could there be?

“Snakes, there are a lot of rattlesnakes living in this canyon.”

I’m pretty sure I shrieked and my face went white. It didn’t seem to faze Joey, but then he was eight years old, older and tougher than me. 

Seeing the fear in my eyes, Daddy said, “Now do you understand why your mother and I don’t want you in the canyon?” We nodded. “Good, then let’s go home and tell your mother that you won’t be coming down here anymore.” He took our hands and led us up and out, and across the street to our house. 

I never did step foot in that canyon or any other canyon ever again. I can’t speak for Joey, he was such a boy, he might have. 

Many years later, when I became an adult and was buying plants at a nursery for my garden, I saw an herb that looked just like the licorice plants in that long-ago canyon. I nipped off a bit and snuck it into my mouth just as a nursery worker walked up to me.

“That’s fennel,” he said, pinching off a bit and putting it in his mouth.”Tastes like licorice, doesn’t it?”

All I could do was smile because indeed it did.