The metaphor extends, slightly

As I hung up the phone with a dear friend this morning, I realize that he was right. I had told him how I'd never lived in a place that was this full of heat--not even in Virginia--how here, everything grew so quickly requiring one transplant after another, how even though this has grown expensive, the thrill of returning to new growth or to see what sprouts while I sleep, has made this process so worthwhile. 


Last night, I hauled two 40+ quart bags of potting soil/compost up the landing to liberate my six tomatoes I had grown from heirloom seed from their communal container. I wondered, should I place the ones most likely to thrive in the largest pots or the ones needing the most care? In the time it took to make this decision, one of my plants began to droop significantly while the other stood tall and strong. By the time they had all been re-planted in their most immediate homes, some sunning in the sills to be given as gifts and others deep within, what I am told will be good for them (dark plastic bins, though I wish I could have afforded cedar), the wind began. Amazingly  or not, I watched the one that had appeared to have separation anxiety, perk up--no doubt developing stronger roots to face the weather. M. had said, "It sounds like you're talking about romantic relationships." And I think maybe…

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