I’m a propagator. If I have a plant, all bets are off that I’m not scheming how to divide that beast into two.
My current focus is a geranium. I cut the tops off three increasingly longer arms and slammed them straight into the soil of my wheeled plant cart. One didn’t make it. Two did.
I don’t feel sad about the loss, only pleasure at the wins.
The amount of new growth is like hearing your one-year-old say “Dada” for the first time. It’s next-level rewarding.
I need more of it.
My mind is wandering, thinking about the current plants in the yard and what else I can split up. The taller-than-the-house banana tree comes to mind. Recently I learned the main stalk is called the mom, and the first shoot she sends out is the daughter. This season alone, she’s also put out four granddaughters.
All of which are my height.
And if I get the nerve, I cut and uproot the grandkids and transform this woodland landscape around here into a tropical oasis.
How lucky are we? Dave’s sister can stay at our house while we’re away camping over Labor Day. Now I can stop Rover profile-scoping and worrying about the extra cost for morning and evening chicken-coop locking and unlocking.
Now that hamster wheel of unknowns can stop squeaking, and I can focus on running.
Eleven weeks until the half marathon means I should add an extra mile to my long runs each week. I was thinking about starting at four miles.
And knocking that out first thing tomorrow would make me feel very accomplished.
Love,
Jaclynn
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