The miracle of cuttings

Once I succeeded to grow tomatoes (see The tale of the though tomatoes), I really got into (balcony) gardening. Almost obsessively I have to say…

My bookshelves show my consecutive obsessions; more books mean the obsession took longer or I had more money to spend on books. Or there were simply more books available on the topic in question.

If one’s passion is for example collecting bouncy balls, I guess there just aren’t so many books. But if your hobby would be traveling, there’s loads to choose from. One could for example buy a book on traveling in Thailand. Even if one isn’t even going there. Maybe there are people whose hobby is just buying and collecting traveling books. Because it looks cool on their bookshelves. And they spend evening after evening photo shopping their selves into pictures with palm-tree-beaches so they can proof their nosy guests that they’ve really been to those places. Would they just randomly buy books, or would they have a wish list of books of particular countries they think look cool? Or maybe they select books based on how cool the side that shows looks. There might even be people who print book covers (there must be a market for that!) and cover books they don’t need anymore with those. And to prevent people from picking those books up (and finding out they’re fake), they’d glue them together and onto the bookshelf. Only after having done that, they’d realise that this might come across strange. So they’d make up a story about how this is a ritual in country X that they have visited; after having visited a country, the book of that country needs to be glued to the shelf; that brings good luck.

Looking at my bookshelf, I can conclude that my glass-painting period was utterly short; one book. I hardly remember doing this.

I must have been a kid. I don’t even know whether this even was a real hobby. Maybe the book was on sale at the local village supermarket where my parents shopped. You know, in one of these bins full of other crap that looks cheap. Evoking a feeling of really missing out on a good deal when one doesn’t buy any of these things. Only 1,95? That’s a bargain! I have to buy it! I don’t even care what it is! There are whole shops consisting only of these bins with for example ramshackle birdhouses. With a plastic bird in it that whistles whenever you walk by, so that birds are so frightened, they’d never go in there. Or with cheap fake Barbie dolls that lose one leg even before you touch them. Half of the Barbie’s lying in the bin already miss a wisp of hair, or have cracked legs. And bins with books, and books on glass painting are of course indispensable.

My aquarelle painting period was also painfully short; one book. Claying: 1 book. Filmmaking: 1 book. German grammar: 1 book. Psychology: 22 books (okay, studies might not count). ‘closet control’: 1 book. Yoga: 1 book. Traveling: 12 books (not glued together, really visited).

Books on gardening, however, are excessively represented in my bookshelf. I actually have to refrain myself from buying more. One books speaks about cuttings (‘stekjes’). As my expenses at the garden centre, that I started visiting more often, got out of hand, I figured this was a nice option to get more plants, for free. First, I went into the Vondelpark near my house where I started to take cuttings. At home, I put them in soil, and waited. But all that happened was that the cuttings died and got moldy. A while ago, my friends Nynke and Nico-Jan visited and gave me some cuttings of their plants. All I had to do was put them in water. And it worked! Most of the cuttings grew roots and I planted them in soil!

I am now reproducing the mint I bought at the greengrocery at the corner. Isn’t it a miracle!?