I could have put these straight in to the compost bin. Three little ones and the large clump that fell from my ageing, weak parent plant. However, where there’s life there’s hope – and so I gave them a chance. I potted them up with some soil, watered them, and willed them to take root and flourish.
As you can see, they have done exactly that. The largest one has even grown new, pink spikes, which will eventually become vines.
I also pruned back the parent plant recently because I was concerned for its health. The three prunings I was able to take have rooted successfully, and the parent is already showing signs of new growth. This plant is especially important to me – far more important than my garden borders – because it belonged to my grandmother and I took it on when she passed away. I think she would be delighted to know that her plant survives and has produced cuttings. Whatever happens a part of it will always be living.
I like to think that this plant – so tenacious and eager to cling on to life – is symbolic of our dreams and aspirations. Sometimes things have to change; your core aspiration is still the same, but it needs to adapt to a new situation, take root and grow to fruition.
My disabilities do tend to depress me on my bad days, but when that happens I look at the parent plant and all the cuttings I’ve saved from death… and I remind myself that I – like this amazing vine – can adapt my aspirations so that I can meet and cope with them. They do not have to change just because I can no longer do some of the things I used to enjoy.
My aspirations simply need to be transplanted to new soil, where they can grow in to something that I can successfully work with and achieve.
Always try to stay positive, whatever obstacles are placed in your path.
I love the way you look at this, and I so understand it. For ten years I have been nursing a satsuma planted in all innocence by my (then) eight year old daughter, from the seed of a seedless satsuma! It is bug-infested and needs to be washed in dish soap and debugged on a regular basis. Once I thought it had died, but it came back, and I was delighted. When Bea goes away to college next year, and every time I see her little satsuma tree, I will think of my sweet child who made something of nothing. Thank you for a lovely post!
I would love to see a picture of that satsuma tree! My Nan grew the monster tradescantia that I have all of these new plants from when she took a small cutting from one I owned 30 years ago. My original plant was eaten by my mother’s cat but my Nan’s cutting just grew and grew. It’s such a beautiful plant, and every time I look at it I remember her teaching me how to cultivate houseplants and grow a successful garden. Thanks to her I am also a birdwatcher, cook and conservationist – we made many happy memories together
Beautiful plants and beautiful thoughts!
Thank you! I just can’t allow any part of this plant to die (and if it does it was never going to survive away from the parent, trust me). It’s not just because it was my Nan’s, but because I consider throwing out any green parts that might take root to be murder!
I watch the growth on these cuttings, and constantly remind myself that my disability isn’t the end of everything; I just have to think differently and plant my ideas in new fertile ground for adaptation and growth. I like the symbolism
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