propagate

Propagation.

I find so much satisfaction in taking what I have and making more from it. It requires cutting roots and leaves, or burying runners and vines, but it’s always unto a new thing. It’s resourcefulness at its finest. I deeply value the ability to take a little and make a lot. There is no lack in that place. It suggests that we have what we need, and it’s just a matter of reproducing.

My flower beds are full of seeds and starters from friends and family. I love circling the house and remembering where each plant originated from. They tell their own story this way. I have a succulent that’s been with me longer than most my kids have. I’m not ashamed to say that if I moved tomorrow, half of my haul would be clay pots of vegetation. Deposits. Beginnings. How much of what we treasure is laid up in clay? I think all of life starts small, but has the potential to take root and multiply if tended to.

I sowed a lot of seed early spring. Just sprinkled tiny things along all the beds as if it were pixie dust. And I didn’t know what would take root. So I watched for months, and I was looking for something that I would recognize as flower. It was tricky. Weeds and flowers both grow up looking the same for a time. Last year I pulled up an entire poppy patch, believing they were an unwelcome intruder. This year I knew better. But I had to let them both grow awhile before I could discern the difference. It requires a well-trained eye for what’s real so you can know it when you see it.

Now, I can see the columbine and poppy, both well established. In fact, I discovered 3 moon flower plants just yesterday that I had mistaken for eggplant. I thought the seeds given to me hadn’t produced, so I was thrilled to find that they were thriving, and the white umbrella blooms were ready to unfurl. I don’t know why I’m so mesmerized by seeds and soil, other than I discover so many true-to-life parallels. It’s such a foretelling mirror to gaze into and inquire of. Life truly is like a garden to me.