IMPERFECTION

 IMPERFECTION

How about that geranium I started from a cutting? Someone's front yard was my thievery target as I hurried to catch the bus. Someone should have pruned this enormous overgrown bush encroaching on the walkway. A strong breeze off the ocean blew the large orange blossoms to one side, causing the plant to tilt and flutter. As the bus doors were shutting, I reached in with my free hand and snapped off a useful branch, which I tucked into my pocket. The cabbie sent me a disapproving glance. In the meantime, I made sure my geranium cutting was secure by putting my bus card in my pocket, zapping it, and patting the inside of my pocket.

That took what, four weeks? The trees began to sprout new leaves. After giving it some TLC (trimming, planting, watering, and feeding), I relocated it to the same section of the yard where I'd planted a number of other cuttings. However, this one performed better than the rest. Because, well, look at how big it got. Umbrella care is now standard procedure for all my plants. This is my standard practice for all horticultural endeavors. They're all treated the same in watering, pruning, and feeding from me. Those that can make it do so, while those that don't end up in the compost or disappear into the ground withered and disillusioned. This is why I have such a robust collection of succulents and geraniums—they are the only plants that can thrive in my conditions.

No doubt I mentioned it to you. You'll recall that I brewed a pot of tea and served a platter of nearly flawless cinnamon pastries. I use the word "nearly" because I had hoped for a little higher increase in value, but I wasn't patient enough to wait for it the last time around. Because, you know, I find it satisfying to punch down a dough ball after it has risen. I hold off as long as I absolutely must, and then I start doing it. Punch.

We devoured those scrolls as we sat there, Jenny's Easter tea in hand. In terms of gift-giving, she is unrivaled in her ability to hit the mark every time. Those tea leaves were the real deal; they were of superior grade and brewed a cup of tea that was simply beautiful in flavor and aroma. You were highly eloquent in describing your new euphorbia, but I've forgotten its kind. Of course, it's great to be able to visit a pricey nursery and walk out with a labeled, well-established, mature plant in pristine shape, preparing to explode into a flower. How simple! I wonder if that would be enough of a challenge if I tried to do that on the salary I make as a line editor. Moreover, you presented me with a picture from your mobile device.

Then I took you outside and showed you the geranium cutting I had been caring for in one of the many random containers stacked in that area of my yard. Since it had been three weeks since I had snipped it off that large bush by the bus stop, it wasn't like it had any real significance. It may be anything like that. Maybe a total of four.

It has, at least, opened its first blossom. Hear this out. You may believe that, but you could also choose to ignore it. In extreme cases, I will send you a picture if I can figure out what's wrong with my phone. Right now, it's refusing to do anything then send and receive text messages. And now the text that arrives is so huge that I have trouble reading it. One day I'll have to devote some serious thought time to it. However, I need to get my spectacles serviced first. One of the arms broke off in the kitchen, and I can't locate the little screw on the grey-tiled floor. I swished a magnet about, but all I managed to attract was the paperclip I'd dropped when Margaret's attorney's papers arrived. Just forget it; I'd need more than a page to describe it, and by then, you'd be so bored that you'd rather be in your enviable garden. I don't understand how you managed to arrange things such that there are pools of white and blue flowers everywhere.

However, you inquired about my missing geranium. You should have seen the beautiful bush from which I cut the branch. And you know what happens to me if I leave something like that in a glass of water for too long, so I didn't do that. If you forget to plant something, the result will be more disheartening than tending to a shriveled twig that refuses to grow. It would be all my responsibility if I forgot, but if the cutting decided not to strike despite my best efforts, that would be a different story. As you had advised me, I dipped the tip in honey. And not just this once, but regularly, too.

What happens next? The height of beauty and splendor. Here, though, hear me out. I wouldn't call it orange. There was absolutely no evidence of orange everywhere. Massive, stunningly white blossoms. White! Whose red stamens are so minute that they may be seen only by peering through the flower's center. Quite a revelation, wouldn't you say? I've made multiple trips to double-check the garden from whence I originally stole it. As a result, everything has been severely cut back. Someone cleaned the windows. Thus it must have recently changed hands. The thought is mind-boggling. When I first saw the orange geranium, I looked behind it and then in front of it. A rush of white blooms appears imminent, but there are no hints of their imminent arrival. Nope, not in that front yard garden. There's no doubt in my mind that I did snip that bush. Do you have any idea what went down?

Be sure to update me with photos of your next shipment of seedlings whenever it arrives. And, by the way, Margaret did end up winning her case, and she's doing quite fine now. It's only a cold, and we're both doing OK despite it.

Tempe merupakan makanan khas masyarakat Indonesia yang dikenal di dunia. Makanan tradisional ini dibuat dari biji kedelai melalui fermentasi atau ragi tempe. Proses inilah yang membuat biji kedelai atau kacang-kacangan lainnya mengalami penguraian menjadi senyawa sederhana.

https://pixabay.com/id/photos/paris-montmartre-jalur-trotoar-3193674/

https://everydayfiction.com/imperfection-by-rosanne-dingli/