Thursday, February 3, 2022

Succulent Wisdom

not-quite Journaling, 29

 a wee leaf
springs gigantic hope
in winter


1/22/2022: these days, when the whole world can’t help but frown in horror, we must share (and nurture) anything that makes the wretchedness a bit less bleak. Seeing new growth does it for me (Schlumbergera, Crassula Tetragona, and Peperomia from top to bottom).

 

1/23/2022: I took this photo during a surprise summer storm, which forced me to bring my plants inside the house at the very last minute. Seeing the last passion and sun flowers of the season takes me back to the warmth of summer, to rain playing music on my windows, to wind howling the same tune… All this reminds me that storms can turn our lives messy (and create beautiful memories, too).

 

Succulent wisdom:
when well loved, the broken
succulent won’t wither or die;
each break grows more succulent.
So, let’s be succulent and grow,
grow all our pieces into a wholed
garden.

1/27/2022: I received a couple of Crassula Rupestris cuttings from England. My post office made a mess of things. The cuttings were bent or broken… I was not happy—especially since they had been so well packaged. But the post office apologized (I was surprised too *cough*). I cut the cuttings at the bends and planted the pieces. And a few weeks later, they’re rooting (and I’m rooting for them!).

 

Breathe…
close your eyes, my Love, see
inside yourself… notice all
hurts and scars and lessons
and craft yourself lived armor.
Breathe… then fight!

1/28/2022: This bit, titled “In Front of the Mirror” popped into my head, after I saw a blackout, I crafted in 2020 (2nd picture). I can’t remember what inspired the original. Maybe I was trying a bit of meditation… since all my meditation sessions tend to conclude with me growling and showing my teeth—very relaxing (for me).

 

in winter,
bare branches
(and I)
dream of spring

2/2/2022: According to Punxsutawney Phil, we are supposed to have six more weeks of winter. Since everything looks rather snowy at the moment, I’m inclined to believe him. Still, it’s warming to continue dreaming spring dreams. 


I love you
weird and wild,
just like me.

 2/3/2022: in case you were wondering.


- for Poets and Storytellers United--Friday Writings #12: Colour—or the Absence of Colour.

37 comments:

  1. How I love the succulent in the shell! (I might copy.) And indeed, all these succulent snippets of wisdom and joy.

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    1. I hope you do copy! I love fun containers. They always make me feel like the plants growing in them are wearing fancy dress.

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  2. Succulent sounds so good. I like the words springs and hope together. Tghe skull planter would be scary if it didn't have succulents growing out of its head!

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    1. I really love saying "succulent" aloud. It sounds so... rich, doesn't it?

      I'm glad you don't ind the skull planter scary.

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  3. I'd like to be "weird and wild!!" Sometimes I do get weird, either on purpose or naturally but hardly ever wild. I think I was when I was young and a little bit during my three years of freedom (from divorce until being married agsin) when I even had a nice motorcycle.
    Most evenings and some daytime I've had "my plants inside the house"while weve had a week of cold. Two are red Hibiscus and they have been blooming more than they did outside.
    ..

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  4. I appreciate the resilience of succulents too. I bought a few at the PA flower show right before the pandemic ate everything. A couple have broken bits, but the babies are doing well in other containers. Darling Youngest has one growing in a rainbow planter they won as a prize.

    Normally I'm not too bad in the winter, and some years I really dig into the coziness of it. But this year every part of me is just aching for a little bit of spring.

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    1. I hope you show off your succulents one of these days. Maybe we can have a succulent pageant or something. Wouldn't that be fun?

      I think this winter has been a tad confining for us all.

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  5. Do you think we ache for Spring because the world has been so awful lately, and the cold winter makes us wither into ourselves, and it feels like all that awful is touching us so we wrap tight against the cold (hate, meanness) and our souls believe Spring will bring warmth and love to our surroundings so we will be able to open our hearts and lives and be whole again without fear or hate or regret and that we will have trust again....in our fellow man (woman, etc.) and our neighbors and our (cough) leaders, and...and...well, you know. You know what Spring should feel like.

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    1. I think that's a lot of it. Winter is death, rest, and a break before renewal. But these days, the world is showing so much death that it's hard not to feel like... it's too much. I'm hoping spring offers us a clean breath...

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  6. Your planters are so creative - that skull and the shell are fabulous.

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    1. Thank you! I'm quite fond of them. They were gifts from my Boy and my Piano Man, respectively.

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  7. I love all the wonderful bits and pieces you gift us each week! NOW, I will just say my huge Thanksgiving Cactus is going to bloom again ~ for Valentine's Day! Do not be envious. Your succulents are life affirming, you know.

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    1. Not envious at all--well, maybe just a bit--I shall delight in yours from afar!

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  8. What a joy this was. What a joy you are! I'm afraid my bit is colorless and drab -- sort of my current frame of mind. I promise to be more upbeat next week, just as you manage week after week!

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    1. I think, my sweetest Bev, that we can only promise to share what is true. And you always do that. So, thank you.

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  9. Whoever the love poem is written for should be pleased. Getting an apology from the post office would never happen here....on the contrary. I wish those little cuttings good blooming.

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    1. I hope they are pleased.

      I was very surprised by the apology. And in writing too! I had never seen such a thing.

      The cuttings are doing brilliantly!

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  10. grow all our pieces into a wholed
    garden.... this is something to say to myself first thing in the morning... or atleast whenever I see a broken snake plant, which I put into water in an old plastic bottle, grow a tiny root and now a little shoot.. all under water. Amazing survival lessons.

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    1. I do the same thing, remind myself that I will always be a work in progress (a growing work?) and that's a good thing.

      Plants are incredible teachers... if we pay attention.

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  11. Succulents. Blooming. Spring. Love. Apology.
    All the right words in February.

    Much love...

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  12. From small things bloom such hope, new growth, new seasons, but an unending love. I love your weird and wonderful. :)

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    1. And my weird and wonderful loves yours right back!

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  13. I love your post. You know my favorite is the skull plant holder. Have a wonderful day.

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    1. It's the grin, isn't it? I mean, who wouldn't love all those teeth!?

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  14. Yes, one little spring of green does it. I can't wait to start my onions!!
    oh,
    yeah, I like your planters too, especially the skull. Makes me think of Van Gogh's Smoking Skeleton.

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    1. I haven't started anything new yet. I think I will start sunflowers and wild flowers on Sunday. Starting some onions sounds really yummy!

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  15. Your succulents do look good, especially the one in the skull planter.

    All the best Jan

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  16. The succulents are a good metaphor for hope in the winter.

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  17. Yes, let us be succulent. Pretty photographs.

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