Monday, August 25, 2014


Growing up, my mom had a plant that sat on top of the armoire that held our tv. For years and years, I watched it grow until it finally reached down to the floor, which seemed completely amazing to me. Years of sunlight and water and love and it just continued to grow. Her name was Jasmine.

When we moved, she came with us, and drove along in the car, all the way from California to Idaho. We didn't quite know where she would fit in once we got there. Sadly, she didn't make it. Maybe she didn't like the cold, I don't know. But it was a sad, sad day when she left us. I felt like a part of my childhood had died.

For a while now, I've been pinning all sorts of plants onto my board. I was always in a state of movement and waiting, not really knowing where I would end up or be settled. I still don't but decided it was time to start planting my own garden, one that I could lovingly care for and bring with me wherever I end up. It sounds silly but my own little family. These little plants make me so happy. Janie is the fig leaf, and the three succulents are Meryl, Meredith, and Blair. 

It's just a little step, a silly step, but just having them, is a start, a beginning. I hope to one day have my own house, full of plants, full of life, full of love, and little humans running around, with a big garden and grove of trees and flowers everywhere. A lovely little house in the country, full of good food. A safe place, my safe place. Home. I'll finally be home.

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