A Propagation Journey
From humble cuttings to deeply planted roots
I don’t know how the average person gets introduced to the plant life these days. They seem to have become a real trendy Pinterest fad, and I’m honestly not mad at it. I grew up in the backyard with my mom. We planted everything in our California garden; fruits, vegetables, flowers, and bushes (the ones with just leaves, no blooms, I didn’t understand their purpose as a kid.) What I didn’t realize until my late 20s, is how much of an influence, and ironic metaphor to life, the process of “raising” a plant is. I know that makes no sense right now, but it will.
When I was a child, maybe Kindergarten-aged, I was obsessed with rabbits. My school’s aftercare program had a class pet, she had a black and white coat, beady red eyes, and long floppy ears. Oh, and her name was Crystal, Crystal the rabbit. I loved her. During school breaks, I sometimes got to keep her and care for her. One time I got to keep her for a whole summer. But, I wanted my own bunny so bad.
“If you can keep a plant alive for 7 days, you can get a rabbit.” That was the challenge, and lesson proposed by my parents. If I could prove that I was responsible enough to feed and water a plant, then I could have my own rabbit. Well, I failed. In fact, my plant never even sprouted. And I never got a bunny. And all I could say was, I guess I’m not ready.
Fast forward a good 20 years, and I’m scrolling through my own Instagram story, filled with the journeys of my current plants and their shenanigans. I had this one vein plant, I think it was a Fittonia. She was pretty, green with dainty pink spider veins. Anyways, she was drama. She’d thrive, lusciously, and within 24hours be in a complete droop, leaves sprawled in every direction, and just a pure look of despair. Every time she did this, I panicked a little bit. But I’d water her, talk to her, and she’d come back like nothing ever happened. A diva plant to say the least.
On my desk, I had a little propagation station. There were three glass flasks, each filled with water and a stem from one or two of my plants. I had already successfully propagated my ivy plant, but I wanted to see if I could do the same with my Fittonia. Needless to say, it had been weeks and although alive and well, the cuttings didn’t seem to want to produce any roots.
The mother Fittonia, had a serious fit one day. It was actually so bad, she never came back from it. To this day, I still don’t really know what caused her death, but it was over. I was quite saddened about it. I took a moment and thought about the journey. She had been a gift, given to me in another state, that I then brought home via airplane, and made her a new home. During that time, I took three cuttings from her and tried to grow them.
It made me really sit back and think about the life of a plant. I mean, imagine thriving in a place, and then being asked for more, when you’re at your peak. Or being asked to pour your energy into the next big thing. Most importantly, what about the lesson of being cut from beginnings, propagated, and asked to find and grow your roots in a foreign situation.
The wild part is, a few days after the death of the mother Fittonia plant, the cuttings sprouted roots. One even long enough to be repotted, and is now starting to bloom with new leaves. It’s almost like the mother had to die, to let the cuttings find their way. It might be a completely overthought scenario, but I took it as a lesson. What I needed out of this plant journey, was a reminder that sometimes roots take a while.
I’ve been propagated across the country, and continuously found ways to grow my roots in different places. I ran into a situation where I felt like the Fittonia cuttings, I was alive and thriving, but something was stopping me from sprouting my roots. I realized I had to let the old me die, to make room for the new me. There is no need to shed tears over it, growth is a beautiful challenge. The possibilities are endless once we release, and let ourselves embrace our new surroundings, beginnings, and even challenges.
I still never got a rabbit.
