"In the sweat of thy face thou shalt eat bread./ Till thou return unto the ground; for thou/ Out of the ground wast taken; know thy birth,/ For dust thou art, and shalt to dust return."
I found a final victim of the falling tree: my newest succulent, who shall now forever remain nameless. It wasn’t until the tree guys finished cutting and hauling away the branches, that I found the remains of the plant – one small root. The plant itself must have been knocked from the pot and swept up with the pine tree debris. I’ve planted the tiny root somewhere, and it may resurrect someday. Or, it may be gone forever
I had to trim back some of the oldest, strongest and blackest bamboo – snapped by the falling branch, It was then that I discovered a surviving white chrysanthemum, one of the first I fell in love with: A Class 1 (irregular incurve) “Mt Shasta”. Now that it’s been rediscovered, I’ll water, feed and perhaps even root a cutting before it blooms this autumn.