The weight deck, where we exercise at the Washington State Penitentiary, is not hospitable to vegetation. Sunbaked gravel and decades of dumbbells dropped from prisoners’ hands make it the last place one would imagine new life to spring up.

But one day I spotted an unusual-looking plant growing in the middle of the razor wire-topped cage where the guys work out. It was August, the middle of a miserable heat wave. The plant had teardrop-shaped leaves, which were green with a purplish hue, and it sprouted up about 1 foot above the gravel. It was hard to tell if it was a weed or a tree or some other kind of plant.

The supervisor of our housing unit at the time had given some of us little pots of dirt with seeds to grow in our cells. However, I did not want to wait for seeds to grow. So I decided to smuggle in the plant.

The biggest obstacle was getting it out of the weight deck without raising suspicion from the guards manning two nearby gun towers. I did not fear being shot, but I was a little worried officers would notice me ripping out the shrubbery and stuffing it in my shorts while surrounded by a group of shirtless, sweating men pumping iron. If caught, I would be taken to a holding cell and strip-searched, and possibly be made to visit a psychologist. I also ran the risk of “violating an unwritten rule,” a catch-all infraction.

My first move was to the restrooms located in the gym. I soaked some paper towels that I intended to wrap around the plant’s roots and lined them along the waistband of my shorts to get it past the guard at the entrance of the weight deck.

Then I casually walked over to the rack that held the weights and retrieved a 45-pound plate. As I bent down, I gently pulled the plant out of the gray gravel and left it there, roots exposed. Then I returned to the rack for another plate, this time wrapping the paper towels around the roots as I bent down.

The tricky part of this operation was the time between “weights up,” when two officers entered the weight deck to count equipment, and “yard in,” when we returned to our units. When I saw two officers get up from their seats and walk across the yard to call “weights up,” I scooped up my prize, tucking it in my shorts with my shirt.

It was convenient that prison policy requires our shirts to be tucked in. I don’t know what the reason is for this policy, but it certainly makes it easier to hide your contraband.

“Hey McKee, you need to trim your bush,” said John, my workout partner.

“Huh?” Then I noticed leaves were sprouting out of my waistline. A couple more rolls and all the leaves were neatly hidden.

Out of the weight deck, I went into the group of guys milling about at the next gate for the final “yard in” call. Some guys positioned themselves up front to speed-walk back to our living unit for a quick shower. A middle group walked more casually, unhurried, but also not wanting to be last. The tail end was the slowest, trying to enjoy every last second of fresh air. As the call was made, I positioned myself in the middle of the group, strolling down the long path of chain-link and razor wire to the next gate of 13 corrections officers impatiently waiting.

About the only thing a corrections officer hates more than showing up to work is paperwork. That’s why I figured if they found the shrub, they would at most tell me to throw it in a garbage can holding trash and other found contraband.

I picked the most annoyed-looking officer in the group and assumed the position. Arms out. Legs spread. Tap-tap, pat-pat. “Get out of here,” said the guard, and away I went.

Between me and my plant’s new home were four gates, two metal detectors and one cell door, beyond which a dirt-filled flower pot sat on my windowsill.

Groot, as a pen pal lovingly named it, has been with me since August 2022 and was recently transplanted into a bigger pot. It’s become a recognized face around these parts, and corrections staff haven’t seemed to mind. Groot has even added three more branches since being transplanted. It definitely looks like a small tree. Over the holidays I decorated Groot with ornaments and a cross on top. I placed three presents under the tree. There wasn’t anything in the presents; I just wanted to create some Christmas spirit.

My unit supervisor asked me recently: “What are you going to do when it gets too big for your house?”

I guess I’ll have to figure out how to smuggle in a saw next.