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Magic Beans, post- transplantation
Being somewhat of an inexperienced gardener, and having a lack of planting vessels, soil, and space, I initially placed all 32 of the Little Marvel peas that sprouted into one medium- sized pot. Due to the nice rainy yet sunny winter weather and daily waterings, all 32 that I placed into the pot grew leaves. Pretty soon this became a problem, as they were starting to crowd each other. On our aforementioned Target run, Laura and I picked up some plastic conatiners that we thought would make cheap planters for the peas and Laura's actual beans. We also went by a hardware store and picked up some more dirt.
When we started transplanting the peas, it was apparent we had acted just in time. The roots were really growing and starting to tangle up in each other. In a few days, we would have been unable to move them. We were able to move twenty- eight of them (there were two casualties) into four bins, leaving two in the original pot. They all should have enough room and soil to grow and remain pretty healthy as long as we can get them enough sunlight. The initial finiancial outlay portion seems to be over; all I have to do is wait to harvest my bumper crop!
BSA Troop 30
on Wednesday, March 16th, Anna B. said:
Ooohkay - here goes!
I feel like some kind of creepy interloper writing to you this way (so much so that I can't even bring myself to do anything more than just skim your postings), but when I went looking for you, hoping for an address, this is what I found. I hope you don't mind my contacting you like this, but if you do, I hope you can forgive the weirdness.
Three weeks ago, my childhood best friend, Andrea Harvey, was brutally murdered by her husband here in Cambridge. Though I hadn't been in touch with her in years, I went to her wake and funeral, and surprised myself by reuniting with other former friends and crying my eyes out, remembering her and discovering the wonderful adult she'd become.
She was 28, and a high school teacher. My heart aches for her family. There's just no way to reconcile something like this, the abruptness of a violent death. She and I hadn't been close, or even run into one another since we were 12 years old, but I always figured I'd see her again, and get a chance to apologize for my part in the childhood pettinesses and resentments that ended our friendship, a chance to let her know how highly I thought of her once I left those years behind, and how much joy I took in the thought of her happiness and success. Since her death, I just can't shake the feeling that life is short, and precious. Something good has to come of this horrible event. I won't let it not.
I'm struck by the feeling that there's just no time to waste in meeting one's goals. In serving one's heart. In reconciling past pains and mistakes. In letting those you love, those you respect, those who've touched your life, those who were there at formative times and are part of the fabric of who you are, know how you feel about them. I've spent too damn much of my life being insecure and shy. Screw it.
I don't really know you now, and I think perhaps I was too young and inexperienced and self-absorbed to really know you way back when - not to mention unkind. It hurts me to think about how I behaved. But there's not a month that goes by that I don't think of you and wish you well, and not a year that goes by that I don't feel my admiration and understanding of the person you were back then grow. If only I'd known then what I know now... Life is short... - I guess the all old truisms are true, except maybe this one: "It's never too late." No. At some point, there is a "too late." Please consider touching base with me sometime. Otherwise I'm just well-wishing into the void. Perhaps there are still things I need to say to you, if you'll someday listen.
I hope you are happy and finding fulfillment, and if not, in the immortal words of Jean-Luc Picard, make it so.
Best, biggest, warmest wishes.