I slipped on my Carhartts and headed toward the nursery, a cloudy and frigid 32 degrees outside. This is what winter is suppose to feel like, all the time. But in just a couple more days the temperatures will jump back up to feel more like early Spring.
Yesterday I had closed the greenhouses due to the icy warnings and predictions that never came to be. Now I was headed to re-open them so as the greenhouses wouldn't heat up too much to trick the plants into believing Spring had finally come.
The propagation house is filled with cuttings that were planted months ago, not by me. One day they may be full grown plants, if they can successfully root into the soil. I looked at a couple of the crops of hydrangeas and viburnums. Their leaves had browned, detached, and were in the first phases of decay. I thought to myself how dead they looked and commemorated them for putting up the good fight.
Yes, I do talk to plants sometimes. It's a habit I have gained during my years down at the nursery. I use to talk to Snickers, but once she passed away I directed my thoughts to the plants. I'm sure they listen.
I began to pick up all of the dead leaves, leaving the stems in their tiny pot homes. As I did so, I noticed that some of the stems actually had buds on them. The plants weren't dead at all!
Inspiration comes in the strangest of forms sometimes.
"Sometimes you just need to pick off the dead leaves to find the life surviving beneath."
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