This afternoon I sadly prepared my winter garden for the set of storms due in beginning tomorrow. I spent hours in a place that brings me great peace--and an uncanny ability to focus. This old dracena, which had been potted more than 10 years, had tipped over and I started to trim it back. Then I realized it was probably not worth "saving," and carried it to the front lawn for the gardeners to take. When I unpotted it, I realized the reason it had been such a rangey, sickly plant: it was severely rootbound.
Even plants can be teachers in their metaphorical lessons. I guess, in retrospect, instead of complaining that I'm getting older and less lively, maybe I'm also rootbound. Tomorrow I will see if I can salvage some of the plant and plant it directly into the ground. Now--I don't want to be salvaged and planted directly in the ground versus a pot, even though Costco now has a large display of coffins by the mattress and patio displays. But, tomorrow, as I harvest this year's journals, I will explore a little about the fact that perhaps, along with aging, maybe part of slowing and achiness of late has to do with the fact that my roots are impacted.
All my patio furniture is now covered in blue plastic, all of Christmas inside and out, except for the tree, is removed and ready for boxing. All my leggy plants have been pruned and my antique white wicker fainting couch is stored on the protected porch.
Another symbol I found today was a tiny bird's nest when I took a giant, old creeping charlie out of its hanging planter. It must have been home to a hummingbird. I brought it in the house and put it on my altar as a reminder that I am nesting--or hibernating--for the winter days ahead.
Don't you just love how -- if you are listening and watching -- how God speaks to us?