This week’s Fantastic Friday post comes from way back in March of 2011. Four years later, my geranium slips are rooting in mason jars, and I’m as crazy about them as ever.. The Man of Steel, now four years older after celebrating another birthday on March 8, is as kind and quiet as this post made him out to be.
My husband is a wise man. He has yet to say a word about the four, count ‘em, four mason jars sitting in front of the east windows, hogging daylight.
He hasn’t commented about how the jars are crammed with geranium slips or how the wintered over geraniums, from whence the slips came, now look like skinned rats in their flower pots.
He never complained about the dozens of gallon milk jugs in the basement full of last summer’s rain water, some used to water the potted geraniums through the winter and much it now slowly evaporating from the mason jars chuck full of geranium slips.
Yes, Hiram is a wise man. He knows better than to editorialize when I go on one of my heritage horticultural tears. This month’s tear is all about Grandma Josie Hess’s heritage geranium, the sainted family flower given to Grandma Josie by her mother, Cora Newell. Grandma Josie gave slips to her children (including my mother), who gave them to her three children, one of whom (that would be me) has become slightly obsessed with propagating the sainted plant.
To tell you the truth, I’m pretty pleased with myself for remembering to cut down the wintered-over geraniums this early and setting the slips in water. Usually I think of it in late April when it’s too late for either the old plants to recover from pruning or for the new slips to root before it’s time to plant them outdoors. But this year I thought of it in March. A minor miracle considering how forgetful I’ve been this winter.
Come to think of it, Hiram hasn’t said a word about my minor memory miracle or my more normal forgetfulness. At least I can’t remember if he’s made any comments about either one.
In any case, my husband is a wise man. Almost a saint. Right up there with the sainted family flower.
No wonder I love them both so much.
- The 8 and 5 candles purchased for Mom’s 85th birthday on September 3 can be switched around for the man of steel’s #58 this coming March and for my #58 in July. Talk about a triple play.
- The school supply clearance aisles are full of cheap, Christmas stocking stuffer delights. Ka-chin.
- The ivy geranium outside our kitchen door is loaded with blossoms. Can you see me smile?
What do you love about September? Leave a comment.
Our family closet doesn’t include too many cat lady skeletons. Mainly because many of us are allergic to cats. Which goes to show that even the dark cloud of allergies can have a silver lining. On the other hand, our family closet contains what I consider to be a variant of cat lady skeletons.
Just a few, though. Well, maybe more than a few. Maybe a lot. Okay, to be both accurate and ironic, our closet is crammed full of them. There’s a deceased great aunt who could have been the inspiration for A & E’s Hoarder show. Several quilting aunts and cousins live by the motto, “She who dies with the most fabric wins.” And Grandma Josie, who raised eight kids during the Great Depression, saved yarn and fabric scraps, buttons, bread sacks, flower slips and tin cans for potting them until she gave up housekeeping at age 93.
The scary thing is, I’m becoming a lot like her.
Each fall, when the first frost threatens, my hoarding instinct begins, a mad attempt to repot my geraniums, asparagus ferns, and vinca vines so they can winter in the house. Every year, my collection of winter greenery grows to more closely resemble my grandmother’s ninety-seven geraniums in tin cans on bedroom windowsills and her scores of African violets arrayed on special plant stands in front of the picture windows in her living room and den.
And I enjoy having them around.
During the weekly watering of the plants, artistically arranged in front of east, west, and south bedroom windows upstairs, I take great pleasure in plucking off dead leaves and rearranging pots to take advantage of the sunlight. Inside, I feel just like Grandma’s face looked when, as a child, I watched her tend her plants.
I might as well jump into the closet with all the other family skeletons and get comfortable.
Except I only act this way for half the year. And only about certain plants. Also, I throw away bread sacks, don’t like to quilt or knit, and gave the button box to my daughter.
So maybe the crowd in the closet won’t accept me.
Which would be perfectly fine since the closet’s getting pretty crowded. Mainly because nobody inside it can throw anything away. But I can, and I do. So don’t even think about nominating me for Hoarders. And pay no attention to the year’s supply of toilet paper in the basement.
I have no idea who put it there.
Roots may be Alex Haley’s claim to fame, but this spring I’m claiming the title for me and my house.
Because the cuttings from the family heritage geraniums I put in water more than a month ago have sprouted roots aplenty. This goofy gardener has four jars full of sassy green magic just waiting for the weather to warm up so they can be planted. And that’s not all!
During rooting season, I showered the future green giants with tender, loving care – changing their water weekly, removing dead leaves, and cutting off rotting stems. More than that, I paid attention to details like which slips rooted most easily, the attributes of the spots that rooted, and other scientific observations. Insights gleaned include the following:
- Tender, green stems root from joints where leaves have been stripped away.
- Hardened brown stems won’t root. Ever. At all. Period.
- If a long slip doesn’t sprout roots, cut a few inches off the bottom, strip a few more leaves away and give it another try. Following this method, my root rate was about 80%.
- Some slips won’t root, no matter what you do.
Pretty impressive, hmmm? I’m thinking a new career in agronomy is just around the corner. As soon my dislike of dirty hands, muddy shoes, weeding, hard work, and earthworms abate. In the meantime, I’m basking in the ancient approval of my ancestors.
My mother is proud of me.
My Grandma Josie would be proud of me.
So would her mother, Cora Rose Newell – the giver of the original geranium.
Partly for keeping family history alive. But mostly because I rooted 30 geranium slips which will save a good chunk of change when purchasing bedding plants in the next few weeks. Because the women in our family are a stingy clan. We are firmly rooted in the belief that the best things in life are free. Which means it’s time for a new project. How to make potting soil this spring instead of buying it from the store.
Just thinking of the potential savings makes me happy, happy, happy!