In the plant hospital
I spent quiet time in my head this morning talking to my watermelon peperomia as I cut off two leaves one of the cats bit through dipped them in root hormone planted them and put them in a little greenhouse in the sun using my hands this way comforts me the same way baking comforts me the same way practicing Bach comforts me I was only interrupted once when my CSA box was delivered it is quiet here in the zero hour bar and grill and strangely still I can’t tell if it’s Saturday or Thursday it no longer matters
the babies
the mother
the babies
the mother
Father
posted by Radish King at 12:04 PM
5 Comments:
The zero hour bar and grill. Such a seriously good name. Somehow, for me, Saturday always feels like Saturday, not sure why.
Is this Saturday? I wish growing energy to the babies in the pot. The mother is gorgeous!
I know it is Saturday because I let myself sleep forever. Long enough to have dreams which will be kept secret. If I have ever seen that plant I do not remember it and certainly if I did, I did not know its name. It's beautiful.
So are you and your writing.
Mother and father are both gorgeous. I adore Bach and wish I could play all his two part inventions fluidity as they deserve. They always soothe me. Order in a scattered dissonant world. Much love.
Xoxo
Barbara
Dear R Saturdays have always been equidistant in happiness from Sundays for me. The joy equation that cancels Sunday’s sorrow. The first day of play during the work week and still for me dress rehearsal night. I will grab the next one and live more closely inside. ♥️
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