One of the reasons I love living in Louisville is our weather. Not only do we enjoy four distinct seasons, but each season usually includes a sneak peek or two of the season to come (ex: a couple of spring-like days, with temps over 60-degrees, in mid-January!).
Winters are far from harsh here, but the restlessness of mid-winter comes nonetheless. My typical response to the January blahs is to grab a pair of scissors, take some cuttings from my houseplants, and plunk them in water, to grow new versions of themselves.
Pictured (left) is a cutting I took several weeks ago, nestled happily in a Mikasa juice glass, in my kitchen window. Yes, I said Mikasa. This glass is one of three that remain intact, out of the set of eight we received as a wedding gift. Every time I see one of these glasses I smile, thinking how gingerly we treated them in the beginning, saving them for the most special of special occasions (meaning we never used them). Now that they’ve been relegated to holding fledgling plants or dandelion bouquets or whatever else needs a tiny, temporary home, they’ve become tough old birds, with nary a chip to be found. Go figure.
As I continue to wrestle with the blahs of my own personal mid-winter, I’ve been looking inside myself for what I might trim and root elsewhere. I discovered a few spindly plants from my theater days, ones that haven’t flowered in years, but may in the right soil and light. The ground that I used during my nine years as an editor has enjoyed an extended jubilee, and seems ready for planting again, if I found the right crop. Then there are the hybrids I might create – combining avocations with work experience, new ideas with established networks.
There is nothing easy about growing something new, but I take such pleasure nurturing new growth in others, certainly I can manage to grow something of my own this year.