Sometimes, I fail to get ahold of my mind, which allows it to ramble silently over my failures, memories, and aspirations. Yes, even at almost seventy, I have aspirations, although I whittled them down some from wanting to be a Nobel Laureate and a girl champion basketball player, a generation too early. Those days may be gone, but my mind is a powerful thing and can still conjur up an asperation or two that might appear ludicrous to others but keeps my spirits happy or possibly deluded.

At the moment, I’m cloning orchids in a plastic blueberry container. Three clones rest on a bed of sphagnum moss I spritz with water to keep them moist and thriving in an environment of condensation.

I hope to see them in full bloom and feeling grateful someone loved them enough to minister to their climate conditions and talk sweetly to them nearly every day like a mad woman in love with her plants along with every living thing. Although, I must confess, I haven’t yet come to terms with the existence of snakes, which might be an obstacle to my becoming a mystic, another lofty aspiration.


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