rooting

i gathered this wild mint at my family's cottage over memorial weekend. we used a couple sprigs in tea and i, determined not to waste this precious find, brought the rest home. i figured i'd probably make some tea for myself and garnish it with this mint. i put them in a half-pint mason jar and decided to let them sit on top of my stove, where they would have sunlight and where i would see them everyday and remember to use them.

then they started growing. i knew mint was a voracious creature, setting down roots wherever its stems hit the ground. while repotting a mint plant, i learned that the roots themselves developed theses stems underground, with leaves, and were all heading upward. what an incredible plant! well, anyway, when these mints started to root themselves in my little jar, i decided that this was the perfect solution to a problem in my garden. the wisteria vine is very luscious. a good thing in itself. however, it shades part of my garden all day and there is not much room for big plant under there. this mint will cover this area, providing a pretty backdrop (especially with the purple stems). when it grows beyond its boundary into the other plants, i get to eat what i rip out! bonus.

i couldn't help but notice the similarity to myself and the mint. i have been transplanted, too. from a place in which i had roots, family, friends, a home. since moving here to plymouth and working at the local starbucks and meeting eric, i have been setting down my own roots. something i have found i must do in order to be happy. i must feel rooted. i struggled a lot with this strange new world, this urban landscape with its steel lamppost trees and blacktop lawns. i have found a home, though. and i am building roots. yes, when i move out of this place in a couple years, my plants will not come with me (though i have romantic fantasies of eric and i in a u-haul, plants in my lap and surrounding my feet in the front seat), but many of them are perennials, and i can only hope that the next person to live in this little house will be happy and comforted to find the remnants of my garden: the red oriental poppy half-eaten by the groundhog but still blooming; the mint that i will soon plant (hopefully they appreciate the cut-and-come-again approach i am taking); the white bleeding heart and the trillium.

i am rooting, and i am happy.