10 April 2006

Really, I just want an excuse to talk about hoes

The pursuit of happiness is a most ridiculous phrase; if you pursue happiness you'll never find it.
- CP Snow

At the supermarket a few days ago, I was staring wistfully at the floral section, and something inside my head just snapped. I needed to have a garden. "I want - nay, I must have a garden on my patio," I thought. And then left the floral section before I could put anything in my basket because, hello. I'm not quite that crazy, yet.

I know better. I was raised to be smarter than this. Things come into our home to die, not thrive. The green thumb did not just skip one generation, friends, it definitely skipped two (unless my sister is harboring some secret mad gardening skills).

Stanley II has been alive and well for almost a year now, but I don't know that I'm ready to handle anything more than a single Porthos vine that Robin had to resuscitate several times before he was strong enough to survive me.

Unfortunately, like when I learned how to knit, I feel this pull because I think something is missing from my life, and if I know myself as well as I think I do, I won't be satisfied until there are some dead plants on my porch and/or balcony. When I learned how to knit, the feeling inside me that I needed to create something useful from something unassuming was so overwhelming it didn't take long to turn into a full-fledged obsession. How marvelous; to use your hands so quietly and have an end result that you can share with people you love.

Now, I want to cultivate life. I want winter to be over. I want things to grow, live, survive - because I cared for them, I tended to them, I loved them.

Is this silly?

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