Give me all your pieces

I may tell myself that I want to talk to my neighbors about dating. I have finally learned the value of caring for myself, my body, and my spirit, so I can quickly pretend to be out of ten thousand steps. The fact is, I have a passion for every social interaction, city walk, or heavy cycle trip – free stuff.

Free stuff is the gardener’s life, the soil is the greatest joy. For me, at least, buying plants comes with a sense of inadequacy, guilt, and remorse. Do I really need another salvia? How many mines are there? The negative pride I feel when plants grow from seed is weakened by the fact that there is a lack of space in my garden; When I put it in an overcrowded container, each new seedling causes a slight shock. But receiving, stealing, or giving plants is completely different – unsealed happiness.

Being a gardener is an unusual way to attract visitors. When I entered my new apartment, I tore the weeds and wood, and began to show the garden to my friends, who were confused. Where were the plants? Instead of laughing, they gathered – extra rosemary, olives, Carolina and alpine. I love them, because they were my friends, but they were being given more fun plants. A well-known musical neighbor stole some missing strawberries from me. A Twitter acquaintance was a strawberry runner from the highlands of Scotland. Gradually, the news of my greed began to spread. I am an etiolated Irish gardener’s happy tomato buds that my friend feels like a breast; From my sister, looking for a house for an accidental avocado plant, during the first lock, under her work desk; Bin bags from my friend Shawne, a senior human rights lawyer, a donor to justice, and a rabbit full of comps on me. I rarely took a train without the successful kids in front of me, just like a page. And, yes, if you ask, I welcome all six of your greenhouse seedlings.

Whatever the cause of a plant’s transmission: death, cats, corruption: I hold it in my chest, often literally, like Mrs. Jellyby, ignoring what I grew up with. I have a home hospital where I can get daily visits to the pale orchid, the failed tradescantia, and the infantile stem. If you leave your pride outside your home, I am your wife. And when you have crowded roots, free flowers, and a life-saving hope and heart, why buy a healthy teenage marjoram for three pounds? It is Russian roulette with more compassion – it is accepted by my family as a waste of very ugly or anonymous plants to spend money. The black curves rented in the supermarket, undoubtedly clean and full of vineyards, are calling my name. Just the other day, by accident, while visiting my local garden, I found a dump truck ready – a blast of brass, oregano and three – three! -Basil species. I can just sit here typing while other plants may be needed there.

I am not alone in my collective zeal. My favorite gardener, Carrel Sapeck, says, “You need to show that you’re the only one who cares. Campanula Moretiana He is rooted and comes to steal at night, kill and shoot because he cannot live without it. If he is too scared or too fat to steal, he will cry and scream for a little piece. But free things go both ways. Like many other gardeners, I enjoy giving them pieces rather than accepting them. My hairdresser and chiropractor Grandma is growing tomatoes. My novel editor inherited the first rose geranium I grew up with. Just mention that the garden and the oversized Italian tromboncino or my favorite spider plant will be yours. Passing a baby aloe vera or fish cactus can be emotionally painful. My orphans create a dynasty, and I am a proud ancestor.

Could it be that the cycle of gardening, eternal nature, shakes me to the point of growth and productivity? “I don’t want gold, I just want to get it,” said Scott Service, a Scottish banker who describes himself as an adventurous Canadian poet. Yes, this little plant can be shrub, anonymous, mucus, but it can be great with a little TLC. And did you know that it is free?

New York favorites


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