This is my tarragon. Yesterday I tipped its small pot upside down and saw how rootbound it had become. So I divided it - tarragon likes this anyway - and repotted two healthy pieces of it in two new pots. I like it inside a roast chicken.Incredibly, this tarragon has been with me since at least 1997. I know this because in late summer of that year I loaded it, along with some furniture, a suitcase and a thyme plant (also on my terrace now), into the back of a U-Haul truck, and high-tailed it out of Alexandria, Virginia, fleeing north on the I-95 from unhappiness.
I've just deleted two paragraphs.
Suffice it to say, the tarragon kept growing, its roots pushing through the confines of its little pot, new leaves greening each spring.
In order to be happy, to find what we seek, we need to like who we are, and to be reconciled with ourselves, in our own right. Then, perhaps, something, or someone, will come along, and give us a new pot to grow in.
And I adore my new pot.
You speak very wisely... about tarragon with chicken, and being reconciled with ourselves.
ReplyDeletehere's to tarragon, and to blooming where we're planted!
ReplyDeleteI'm looking for a new pot to grow in. Losing my studio in July to real estate boom in Dumbo. Depressing to look at 90 square feet for 400 dollars in Gowanus zone. I'm a good painter, but even knowing that, the economics of making art in this city makes me think to put it down.
ReplyDeleteLooking closer to home now. Hoping for a bigger pot, deeper roots.
Blog princess - patience and time, per Shawshank Redemption.
ReplyDeleteQC - funny that tarragon doens't bloom...hm. Thinks.
Frank - that sucks. Do not stop painting. You'll find a new place.