Sylvia Plante and Me

I had a bit of a different Saturday today. The most interesting part was making cuttings from my Tradescantia plant and sticking them back into moist soil. What happened is I went out for over an hour while bottom watering the plant. When I got back all the branches were lying down, so I figured that was as good a time as any to replant them. Before I left, they were standing up but they were getting awfully tall, and bound to be ready to start bending over. That made me sad. I gave her a name and everything. I call her Sylvia. Sylvia Plante. After planting the cuttings, I talked to her and prayed for her, and I hope she'll be all right. People have told me it was all right to do that. The first experience I had with her was a teacher where I work gave me two cuttings wrapped up in wet paper towels and told me to put them in water and when they get roots to put them in a pot with soil. That's all I knew. Since then, I've researched them somewhat. So, we'll see what happens. You see, I am not a plant person. At all. Someone had told me I could just go ahead and do that but I was afraid I would hurt the plant, and plus I didn't even know where to start or what I was doing. So, I prayed. I asked God what to do. She did have, I think two parent plants in the pot, but I just gave her one name. I think maybe the original two cuttings that I had were from an actual "parent" plant somewhere down the line. One article said it would be two to four weeks before they get going. Just have to be patient, I guess. I am just so not good with plants. I am not going to write very much tonight because I have a lot of reading to do. I don't have to hurry up and finish the rest of the book I checked out on a 14-day loan for the second time, because I bought me one of my own today, but I also got three other books I want to read at our great Christian thrift store here in town. It's a Christian thrift store because there is a church there and it was started by a pastor, just in case you're wondering. I am also going to say something about the Tradescantia plant. It is also known as a Wandering Jew, but in this modern age of offense, it has been renamed by some a "Wandering Dude." I don't know if calling a plant a Wandering Jew would be offensive to a Jewish person. If they had a plant called a Wandering Gentile, or a Wandering Christian, it wouldn't bother me, but what do I know? I just thought I'd get that out there. I don't want to offend anyone but my mother used to talk about the "wandering Jews" all the time. She loved the Jews, and was fascinated with their story. So, I don't know why calling a plant a Wandering Jew would be a problem, but if it is a problem for someone reading this, please forgive me. I am old school, you know. I grew up before Woke. I grew up when America was normal, not the way it is now. I grew up before Cancel Culture and people thinking they can change their gender and killing babies in their mothers' wombs is perfectly fine for everyone for any reason and don't believe in God and a whole lot of other things I don't want to get into right now. I grew up before masks and climate change and ugly windmills and democratic socialism and homeless communities and open borders and politics being so crazy like it is today. I just don't know where to start with all that stuff, and ignoring it doesn't make it go away. But I'm going to leave that right there. Yesterday I wrote about not wanting to argue about politics and so far I think about five people have read it. It always makes me wonder why I bother to write anything, but if anyone likes what I wrote or gets something out of it, I think I must not quit, especially since I think God commissioned me to do it November 19 of this year. Every day, that is. The sun is setting earlier, but we still have daylight saving time. So, it's still a happy time, especially since we're going to have a few days below 80 degrees. I'm very happy about that and I think Sylvia is too. I still can't believe I have a plant in my apartment. Something alive that grows. That needs care, besides myself. My pets are waiting for me at the Rainbow Bridge for quite a few years now, so, in a way, Sylvia gives me something to come home to. Someone to talk to and wonder if she likes the music. I just hope I haven't killed her.