This is Bertha. She is a bamboo plant. Notice I said "plant" instead of "tree." Bertha measures almost 5 feet tall. She is approximately 9 years old.
I purchased Bertha at a marked-down plant sale at Walmart. She was only a few inches tall and was planted in a tiny ceramic pot in very little soil and lots of horticultural grit which improves the pH balance of the soil in plants. I paid $5.00 for her. Bertha followed me from home to home, apartment to apartment and was placed in various locations trying to find the right light, exposure, and moisture for her to grow. Over time I can to accept that she would never grow bigger than about a foot despite all of my best efforts at re-potting and care. Then we moved to my present location, and dear, sweet Bertha came into her own.
From the start, Bertha took to her new home and it didn't take long before she was looking pretty cramped in her pot. I decided to put her in a big planter and position her at a diagonal in front of the window so she would get a southwestern exposure. It was there, through the next 5 years, that Berta finally put down roots and reached for the sky. She had found her home.
Life is so much like gardening. In the garden, we often have to move plants around to find the place where they can put down roots and thrive. Some like a southern exposure, some not. Some need lots of sun, some need partial shade. Some like moist soil, others do not. I have lost count of how many moves I've made in my life, from the time I was a young bride in my 20's, to exploring life in a new state, to becoming a mom and needing to find the best place for my children to put down their own roots, and now, in what I like to call my "third age" (I hate the terms "senior" and "golden years"), I feel as though I have finally found the place where I can put down my own roots.
I turned 74 this week. Since I've been living in my sweet, cozy, studio apartment with the killer view, I have successfully gone through three joint replacement surgeries, written and published two novels, and am working on a third. I have created a welcoming nest for myself and love coming home to it when I've been away. My creative juices thrive here. If I want exercise, I have a lovely neighborhood to walk around, and 21 steps from the lobby to my apartment (who needs a gym?). I've developed new and improved plant-based cooking skills in my tiny kitchen just as successfully as if it were a full-sized one. I am content. I feel rooted.
It doesn't matter if we live in a huge, fancy home with all the bells and whistles, or a tiny apartment with a killer view. What matters is if it is a place where we can put down roots and thrive. Like Bertha, it needs to be a place where we can reach for the sky!
And so it is.
