Beauty, plants, and life

So, I got up this morning, put in a load of laundry, and started working on my backyard. There is nothing that comes close to this picture in my backyard. I took it at a shrine in Japan. For luck people use a dipper to toss water on the statue. We were there early in the morning and I was struck by the icicles hanging down from the tree and the hands of the statue. A simple thing really, water and a freezing temperature, but also unique.

My backyard is not unique. If I get a digital camera for my birthday (which would be a hint except my mother never reads this), I'll take a picture of it. It's very small, made up of mostly rocks and drought resistant plants. I rent, remember, so I don't have much say in the matter. My plants are all the ones in pots.

I spent 20 bucks yesterday on potting soil and plants, and by 8:30 this morning I had planted a window box with Impatiens, repotted a spider plant, and some other plant I can't remember the name of, put two pretty plants (one white, one purple, again don't know the names) together in a big pot, cut back a huge Rosemary bush which I haven't touched in the two years I've been here, planted a Curry plant (it really does smell like curry!) and a Cilantro plant, put a pink and yellow Lantania plant in a big pot by my gate, and swept up the whole patio. Oh, and I picked up about 2 weeks of dog doo.

I love looking at things I've grown, even though I usually end up killing them in the end. Too much water, too little water, too much shade, too much sun, you know how it goes.

I do have one plant right now that was Tornwordo's. He gave me several before he moved to Montreal, but only this one survived. It's in a copper-plated little planter, and much of the copper has worn off. If I recall, he actually had this plant before he and Serge met. That means the plant is at least 13 years old. Eek. Every time I look at it I think of all the homes it has had. At least three with Torn, and two more with me.

{There is quite a bit more I wrote this morning after this part. However, when I went to post it, I got one of those lovely "the site you are looking for is not available right now" pages. I went back to this page, but half of what I'd written was gone. I write straight onto blogger, not saving it on Word, so now the rest will have to be written again. Bitter. I am so bitter right now.}

Another plant I have is one that was left in my classroom by the former teacher. It had been left on a dusty windowsill for about 10 weeks when I found it. I nursed it back, and it's been with me ever since. I take it home every summer, and shower it with love and care. Sometimes I goof up. One summer I almost killed it by taking it outside to "give it some sun." It wilted almost immediately, and several of the leaves gave up and just fell off. I've repotted it twice, and probably will once more before school starts (two weeks from now, sigh...).

Funny thing is, it turns out that Michelle, my friend from school, had given it to the former teacher as a gift. She said it had been a tiny little plant when she had last seen it, and didn't even know it could get that big.

Plants represent all kinds of things to us. My mom finally screwed up enough courage to go over to our old house (the one we lived in for 26 years, and the one which my father forced the sale of after he left my mother), and ask the current owners if they still had the Boysenberry bush. See, my sister wanted to plant boysenberries in the yard of her new home, and my mother knew it would mean something to have a cutting from our old place. Well, the bush was still there, and mom got some for me too. She told me to put it in water, in a sunny place, and wait for it to root.

Well, that was early June. It's now August, and I don't think my boysenberry branch is going to make it as a boysenberry bush. It's in water, in a sunny place, but no roots. It's not quite dead yet, but it's not looking good. I've cut the end off twice, hoping it will get more water, but to no avail. My sister, who is not patient at all, got fed up, bought some rooting powder, and stuck it in the ground. Maybe it will work. I hope so.

Now, I know there is a metaphor lurking in what I just wrote. I just don't have the energy to articulate it.

Have a beautiful Saturday.