I admired a friend's tea rose bush this morning, and she promptly cut a sweet rose for me. I read that honey can be used as an organic rooting hormone, and I hope the article was right. I wounded the bottom of the cutting, smeared it in honey, removed the lower leaves, immersed six inches of the cutting in loose potting soil, and inverted a container over the leafed, exposed end. The Rosebush Project has begun, adding to my family of growy things. :)After weeks and weeks of checking for new growth, I peeked under the container "greenhouse" last week, and this is what I saw:
The reddish leaves were brand new! I admit I ran into the house and grabbed Bekah, yelling, "Come look! Come look!"
This week, here's what she looks like (the rose cutting, not Bekah):
Miraculous.A whole new rosebush, from one rose. Pretty soon, she'll be ready to be planted in a flower bed.
It's the simplest joys that run the deepest.
Speaking of joys, one of my girls at work has been very open in her hatred for me. I didn't think it would ever change. Over the past week, it seems to be, almost imperceptibly. Yesterday, she walked by me and hit me with this comet: "I love you, Becky." I recovered my verbal capacity in time to assure her I love her as well. Wow. Sure never thought I'd live to see that day.
In other adventures of last week, here's one I have no desire to relive:
In the merciful coolness of an evening last week, I began digging a flower bed for my new bird bath. Bekah started mowing the lawn. The flower bed's perimeter was barely finished when Bekah came running around the corner of the garage. Followed by a swarm of hornets. The hornets were rather upset that Bekah had dared mow their little backyard and stung her with great vim and vigor.
I dropped my shovel. What could I spray on Bekah that would kill the hornets and not kill her? I ran for the Windex and proceeded to empty half the bottle on her while imploring the hornets not to sting me because I'm allergic and really didn't feel in the mood for any kind of medical emergency.
One hornet was not moved by my pleading.
By the time Bekah was insect-free and checking out her battle scars, I felt really... weird.
If I take Benadryl immedately, I usually don't have too dangerous a reaction. Not like when I was Five Years Old and my throat swelled shut or anything.
We didn't have Benadryl.
Both of us sweaty, Bekah and I, covered in Windex and soil, respectively, drove as quickly as legal to Walgreens. Bekah, despite her multiple stings, had to drive because I was staggering like a drunk.
Not to complain about Walgreen's customer service or anything, but I stood at the checkout for a good long time before anyone came to let me pay for the Benadryl.
"Would you like any KitKats, Baby Ruth, or Twix bars today?" the cashier asked, gesturing at the "ON SALE" array on the counter.
"No, thanks. Just the Benadryl," I replied, swaying slightly and trying to swipe my card.
He hadn't totaled the order yet.
"What about Walgreens-brand toothbrushes? Two for fifty cents?"
"No, thanks. Just the Benadryl." Not feeling very coherent at this point and hoping vaguely he didn't think I was drunk, I again tried to swipe my debit card.
He still hadn't totaled the order.
"No, thanks. Just the Benadryl."
Giving me a strange look, he pressed the total button.
I paid, grabbed the Benadryl, and swayed out onto the sidewalk where Bekah was waiting with my water bottle. Like pill poppers, we both immediately took the max dosage. Thank God she isn't allergic to stings, but she had a massive lot of poison going on in her system.
That having happened last week and this being THIS week, obviously we survived. I just don't think I'll ever have the courage to go back to Walgreens.