Digging up my roots.

Early this year when snow was still falling, I decided to give my black thumb one last chance at growing plants from seed. Real gardening supplies were not yet on store shelves, so I turned a styrofoam egg carton into a seed starter. I'd read that impatiens take a long time to start from seed, so I planted them early as recommended. My baby seedlings sprouted quickly. I watered and rotated those pups often so that they'd grow evenly. As soon as I could find seed starting kits, I bought a couple and planted those too. Seed trays were threatening to take over my dining room table.

My little green gems took a long time to grow leaves. About half of the plants died. I remained patient with my remaining young impatiens. Once it was warm enough outside, I began putting the trays out in the sun for increasingly long periods of time. After training the babies to live outdoors, I gave them new homes in pretty planters around the fence of the patio.

I watered and fertilized them often...and still no flowers bloomed. By this time, mature potted flowers were beginning to show up at stores everywhere. Some frauds stir water, oil, and eggs into cake mix and call themselves bakers. Not me! Similarly, I couldn't buy ready-made, just-add-water flowers and call myself a gardener. After what seemed like an eternity of looking at skimpy, flowerless stalks and leaves, I became impatient with my impatiens.

Yes, I did the unthinkable; I broke down and bought beautifully blossoming impatiens plants from the store! I came home and didn't even give my babies an explanation. I ripped them out of their pots and discarded their battered bloomless bodies in the woods just past the walkway that leads to the front door.

Without even giving them time to process what had just happened to them, I quickly replaced them with the bountiful new plants. The patio was instantly beautified and I was instantly satisfied.

Fast forward several months... I'm walking out of the door one morning to go to work. There in the woods, just past the walkway, I see the most beautiful bright flowers. They almost look like...impatiens. I realize that these used to be the barren, flowerless, pathetically skinny stalks that I ripped out in spring. I tore them out by their roots and tossed them into the woods like waste, expecting them to rot and degrade into the earth. They didn't. Their roots found a new home and flourished.

I'm no longer engaged to the person with whom I thought I'd build my life and my future. I've left what was my home. My roots are exposed now but I know they'll find their way soon enough.

My Friend's Divorce by Naomi Shihab Nye
I want her
To dig up
every plant
in her garden,
the pansies, the penta,
roses, rununculas,
thyme and the lilies,
the thing
nobody knows the name of,
unwind the morning glories
from the wire windows
of the fence,
take the blooming
and the almost-blooming
and the dormant,
especially the dormant,
and then
and then
plant them in her new yard
on the other side
of town
and see how
they breathe!

Life, you're really throwing me for a loop here.

Earthquake in northern Virginia (and apparently all along the east coast). Somewhere between a 5.5 and a 5.9 on the Richter scale. No damage.

I just started laughing.

Part of my life has been turned upside down. I'm dealing with it in the best way that I know how: to wallow briefly when necessary but then will myself to notice the beauty and love around me.

I'm so fortunate to have caring people in my life--family and friends. I'm thankful that I've learned to acknowledge and appreciate the good, even when I can't ignore the bad.

I'm reminded of one of my favorite poems by Robert Frost:

The way a crow
Shook down on me
The dust of snow
From a hemlock tree

Has given my heart
A change of mood
And saved some part
Of a day I had rued.

Frankly, I'm reminded of many different poems and proverbs but this is the only one that isn't dreadfully cheesy.

Sexy car, stupid idea.

Last night Tommy showed me a picture in one of his car magazines. "The new Audi sports car comes with a fire extinguisher." Do you see it? It's in the lower right hand corner of this picture, where purses and feet are supposed to go.

"That's bad," I said. "Do they think you're going to need it?" It would probably be prudent to keep a fire extinguisher in one's car, but to sell a car with one? Are you telling me you expect my car to blow up while I'm in it?

I can just imagine some corporate suit pacing around the conference table at a design meeting, asking his staff, "How can we make this car just a little more badass? Brainstorm, people!" A few moments later... "I've got it! Let's put a fire extinguisher in the car! It'll say, 'I'm sexy, I'm hot, I'm dangerous!'" His cronies cheer and rally around him.

Everyone was afraid to tell their boss the truth: it's a stupid idea. When I'm in my car, I don't want to see anything associated with fire. Selling a car with a fire extinguisher is like including a free pregnancy test with every box of condoms.

Stupid.

In other news, I'm getting my hair cut today. Wish me luck.