Root Hog
Roots. You put them down, you dig them up. They run deep. My two cacti, for instance, were happy where they lived. They put down some serious roots. Ten years in the same place will do that for you, I guess. It was an achingly difficult job yesterday digging them up. Hands and knees difficult. Thank God for rain and soft soil. Eventually, they came out, however, thanks also to a good pry bar and a shovel.
I’ve dug up equally difficult plants. Turks Caps come to mind, and Lantanas. The latter will come back if you leave even a sprig. I’ve heard the same for cactus. We’ll see. And lest I forget, the hackberry puts down a tap root that defies extraction unless the ground is soft and moist, as it was yesterday. So, several of them got pulled up as well along with the cacti. I was a root hog.
Now I need to get after some bad habits and bad thoughts, and root them out as well. I wonder what the mental of equivalent of rain and soft soil is? Willingness? Or a pry bar? A counselor? It seems as though every mental improvement project requires nothing but bare hands and sweat. No wonder I’m still a mess. I did realize something yesterday, however, at 3:30 in the morning. When I wake up like that and start ruminating, I’ve discovered the off switch. I’d describe it for you, but I think its personal. All I know is, I can reach in, say, we’re done, and the next thing I know the alarm is ringing. That feels useful.
John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregiver’s Tale.