Broken Plants and Cut Hair

Busy making things over here.  Making things for Brown Bird Green String, for my family.  Hands in cookie dough, garden soil, embroidery floss and pots with strange brews aka natural dyes.  Walking to parks, to libraries, to neighborhood shops.  It’s a happy busy, a distracting busy, a busy I truly need right now.  Taking my mind off of oppressive things of the sort I can’t change.

custom towel for wedding
custom towel for wedding

Yesterday was such a fantastic day!  We played in the sun, enjoyed lunch and dinner outside.  I finished up a project (albeit at 2AM!).  However, the icing on the cake was finding out I was accepted into a great artists’ market in July.  The kind where a fancy craft tent is warranted.  Big time!

Today, the shimmer wore off a bit, chipped and peeled to reveal the gray behind.  Maybe it was the rain.  Maybe it was a late night catching up with me.  Maybe it was a hike postponed and a longing for green lush forests.  Maybe a combination of everything.

The wee and I launched from the estate fairly early, “To Phipps!” our rallying cry.  We had snacks.  We had umbrellas and raincoats and rainboots and crocs for when one boy became tired of rain boots.  We had money!  All we needed were the plants.

We arrived and were shocked at how many people were already parked up the street.  We drove around to find a spot and the usual place we park, way up the street, was full.  We turned into Schenley Park and  not one spot!  We turned around and drove out of the park and back onto the oak-lined street and there in front of us was an empty spot.  After a lovely parallel park we paid for parking and pulled out little red wagon along the sidewalk towards Phipps and the May Market.

I won’t bore you with details about all the plants.  Oh, the plants!  I will say I like to do a small look-see turn first, determine what items are must-haves, then circle back to make decisions and purchases.  After much deliberation the first purchase was made.  A lovely Solomon’s Seal from Sylvania Natives was exchanged for $10 and set carefully, gently inside the red wagon.

The wees took a small break from shopping to plant up some zinnias of their very own.  Then we went back to the task of selecting and buying.  As we rambled along, Wee One began to push on the back of the wagon.  I asked him to please stop, as he could hurt our plant.  Wee One then gave another push, this time to the seat back that is made to fold down.  It folded down, just as it should, snapping two stems on the clump of the Solomon’s Seal.

This was the end for me, a downward spiral I could not climb out of.  Tears filled my eyes.  We had worked so hard to get here and be here, and now what was the point?  I had just bought a plant for $10 that was probably dying as we spoke.  I could not justify buying more plants so I told the wees we had to leave, that we could not buy any more plants.   Our plant was dying and mommy was sad.

The kicker was this;  no one else would understand how truly sad I was.  How little things like going out to buy some plants from small local greenhouses and farms mean so much to me. How doing something for myself, for my pleasure, is a rarity these days.  How I am being swallowed up by motherhood and feel guilty about everything.  Guilty for being selfish, for being a terrible mother who is raising children who do not listen, for just failing at a simple outing, a simple task.

I belted both wees into the wagon, picked up the already-drooping plant and pulled the wagon slowly up the hill towards our parallel parked car.  Wee One began crying, he did not want to leave.  Wee Too yelled loudly at Wee One and told him over and over we were leaving.

We packed everything back in and drove home.  Wee Too fell asleep on the way home.  Wee One was quiet.  We got home and we tended to the Solomon’s Seal.  I cut the two broken stems off, the ones that were also blossom-laden, placed them in a glass of water, put it on the mantel.  Wee One watched and assisted in the repairs, then we planted the remaining stems and roots into a shady spot under the blooming azaleas.  Then Wee One and Wee Too planted their zinnias into their own garden boxes.

Lunch was inside today, with stormy skies moving in.  During nap time, I decided to go get my hair cut.  Of course.  When one feels out of sorts, it’s most logical to go and get your hair cut, right?  When Nature Boy got home, I told him about my day and my need to cut my hair.  He understood.  Of course he did, he is amazing.

I walked into a salon, thunder rumbling.  They were ready for walk-ins. The book I brought to read was opened and then closed before half a page was read.  The hair cut was given.  I felt euphoric, lighter, walking out.  It was now raining.  I walked lighter, swayed a little more.  I don’t know that the cut itself, the look of it, is the reason.   I think it’s more of the feel of it, the notion of it, the point of it.  Whatever the reason, I am back on the up again.


2 thoughts on “Broken Plants and Cut Hair

  1. I think that you make being a momma appear to be the easiest, most whimsical, natural, beautiful thing in the land. Keep that in mind when the day turns grey.

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