Sometimes Blossoms, Sometimes Thorns

I while back, I made tzatziki sauce to go with gyros, and I ended up buying live mint instead of dried leaves. I ripped the all the leaves off, the violence of the act dawning upon me only upon seeing the barren stalks sticking up from the bottom half of a soda can filled with potting soil, but I was nonetheless determined to make it grow. Winter, by the way, is not the best time to start an herb garden inside your kitchen window, but for one reason or another, the October snows were hesitant to hang about for more than a couple of days at a time, and that means that little Minty for a time enjoyed the leisure of sunbathing on his windowsill balcony, overlooking the lawn.

Minty grew big and strong, and the sun battled the clouds for as long as it could before the cold set in, before the swift-footed cirrus and the billowy hordes of cumulonimbus cast their shadow on the land. As is often the case when someone making great progress is beset by obstacles, Minty started to get discouraged, and I could see that his green confidence was fading in the face of opposition. I decided to set him on top of the oven, hoping that a little warmth would cheer him up, but I found out the hard way that the oven apparently provides for more than just a little warmth. Pretty soon, Minty's lower leaves shriveled up his stalks gave way. I think I killed him.


I can't help think that plants are like relationships sometimes. We sometimes just overdo things, or just don't think about the implications of our actions, and soon someone gets burned. I can't help thinking that things might work out better for me if I were just a little bit more thoughtful toward others, just a little bit more attentive to their feelings, aware of their needs. Because while cookies do an okay job of saying sorry, and while, "They're good" is as much of a "Don't worry about it" as I can reasonably expect, Minty is drooping, doubled-over in pain, and his confidence is lost. And whether he'll grow back or not, I'm not sure, because life is one of those things that you can never really anticipate, no matter how often you tell yourself otherwise. And the things that grow within us are wildflowers and thorns, beautiful and untamed-- they spring up in unexpected places and sometimes blossom, sometimes wilt, and that's just the cycle of nature and love.