Yesterday, the yard people weeded all my plants. I was sad that not only had the life I'd spent a few weeks caring for bit the dust for no good reason other than a landscaper not understanding the difference between plant and weed, I just don't have the funds the to replace them.
But I'm crafty. I don't let poorness get in my way. I emailed my dad, who always has some sort of plant needing homes. I also asked if I could go round my town to take clipping from desirable plants to make grow my own versions.
My dad replied with this interesting tid-bit about my maternal grandmother:
My mother used to take a rose cutting (a good thick stem) and put it in the ground and put a fruit jar over it. If she kept the soil moist, the rose would take root and grow. Forsythia will often root right in a flower vase. If you can bend a branch of a bush down and bury some of the stem in the ground (and keep it watered), the stem will pften take root. Then you can cut it off and plant it.
I then imagined my grandmother, who instead of fulfilling her dream as an independent, working woman in the respectable female profession of nursing, which would have secured her during the Great Depression, she had to be creative. She had to leave school because she got knocked up on her first date with my grandfather. (Shotgun wedding, of course) I imagine that during the early 30s and prior to WWII, she learned how to grow beautiful plants from nothing (or stealing clippings). My dad inherited her green thumb I guess and her amazing ability to make gardening an affordable pursuit.
My mother sent a response, too, since she shares the email address with my dad:
The plant business I will leave to Dad, but do not take cuttings without asking the owners.
I'm sure my mother has vision of me dressed in all black, mask and all, stealthily roaming our small town with a pair of scissors in one hand and black duffel bag in the other. She's probably calculated the bail money it would take for me to be released from federal prison. She might have already contacted a lawyer about a retainer.
The sad thing is is that in our small locale, my banditry would make the front page.
The good news is that for Mother's Day, my husband bought me three replacement plants. They look a little Charlie Brown Christmas Tree-esque, but I know he got a good price. And seeing them by my computer this morning nearly brought me to tears.
My kid told me "I don't care about Mother's Day" first thing this morning, but only because he's too much like me, and medicated. He needs time to absorb the meds and the morning. He let me have a six hour nap today.
So to all your different sorts of mothers out there, enjoy your day.