A Friend, Flow, and Some Plants.

Last week, I experienced something pretty cool. But it started a while back. I’ll explain.

During COVID, I have been cautious about hanging out with people. Part of this is that I have immunocompromised family members, and that has been a concern. But the other part is that I am deciding which pandemic-habits I am ready to shed, and to what extent. I’m still not crazy about attending crowded indoor events. Even outdoor ones leave me feeling apprehensive. And to be honest, I’m out of practice. Connecting socially can wear me out after awhile. But I am gradually getting together with individual people, especially now that the weather is conducive to outdoor gatherings. The need for social connection is vyying with my desire to exercise caution. I’ve learned that it’s not an either/or proposition, but a continuum on which I decide how to connect with people. And let’s face it. Social media and being online, while fun in some ways, can trigger our more negative impulses and outrage. There is only so much of that we need in our lives. There is something to be said for living in 3-D. So a month ago, I asked a friend who is a colleague, too, if we could get together outdoors, maybe at her place, if that was easier? She agreed.

When I arrived, she said, “It’s great to see you. But I admit, I’m shocked.”

I know why. I tend to be introverted, and with all my caution, I have created a bubble for living, working, and socializing over the past two years. She’s gotten used to my hermetic habits and never really expected me to just drop by. She is an unabashed extrovert who organizes people, meetings, tasks, seemingly effortlessly, because she enjoys it. She is also an amazing woman who has been undergoing chemotherapy for the past year and a half. Sometimes it’s hard for her to talk or hang out, she has told me, because she gets physically fatigued and has to attend to her body. So she has grappled with how and to what extent to visit with people, too, for that very different reason.

I brought over some soda water. “Food is hard, so let’s not do it”, she said when I’d offered to bring something. Her desire to eat has also been compromised by the chemo. So I brought some bubbly water.

We embraced, and then we chatted about how things are going with life, work, and all of that. We got caught up on things, and that was all good. We drank the soda water. Actually, I think it was mostly me who drank it. Then I spotted some potting soil in bags next to her patio.

“Oooh, are you planting stuff?” I asked. I do like to garden, when I have a chance, so Spring is fun, when the weather isn’t too stifling here in Northern Virginia.

“Yes”, she said.

“Hey, want to do some now?” I asked.

“No, no, now I want to just see you! It’s been so long. We can do that another time, though.”

So we talked some more, which I enjoyed. She looked like she did, too. We kept it on a time limit, which worked for us both.

Afterward, she texted me that that was fun. I said, for me too. “Next time,” I added, “I’ll be happy to help with some planting if you like.”

She said, definitely.

So last week, she asked about that. I went over with some garden supplies. As it turns out, we both prefer to work on plants in pots. It keeps things pretty, but manageable. We chatted as we started working. As we did so, we got to know each other in a different way. I’m usually not bad at keeping a plant alive, or assessing what it needs to heal and grow. And to my surprise and delight, she knows about Bonsai planting. She explained how her father was a Bonsai aficionado, and how she learned a lot by watching him work on his own plants. As we tapped holes into the bottom of closed pots, scooped dirt, and repotted her plants, her stories unfolded. About her family — “Those roots will go into shock!” she screeched, imitating her mom chastising her Dad. "I know what I’m doing”, she said he’d retort. Then he’d check on his plants obsessively over the next month, “but he wouldn’t let her know it, because he didn’t want to let them die and have her be right”, she explained, chuckling. She spoke about roots and how to “guide” the trunks into certain shapes, per the principles of bonsai. Sometimes the conversation would go to a topic of concern in her current life, or in mine. They were present but not central as we patted dirt, gently separated roots, and set finished pots down.

“That’s the beauty of bonsai”, she said. “You plant, you trim, you guide, and you really don’t have control or know what exactly is going to come of it. But something will.”

I told her about a bonsai tree that my husband brought home from work at the start of COVID in 2020. Its leaves had been wilting and many were dried out. At home, we watered it more attentively and trimmed its dead leaves and twigs. Recently, I repotted it. It was growing and needed a new pot. “It’s huge now”, I said. “So it’s revived, but I have no idea how to guide it, bonsai-style.”

She offered to take a look at it. “I can see how we can shape it and what you can do with it at this stage.

‘That would be awesome”, I said.

So we have a date for next month. We’ll meet again and work on my plants. I realized when we said goodbye that this afternoon soothed me and I suspect, her, in a way that has been so rare over the past several months. To feel the sun on our heads, the breeze. We felt the soil on our hands and on her plants as we worked and occasionally talked. In short, it was a glimmer. And at the end of it, several freshly potted plants sat in a row at the edge of her patio. One of them had been wilting before we started. “Look, it’s already waking up!” she said. And lo and behold, the leaves stood a bit straighter and higher in the new pot.

I’m holding this all in my heart. May you also have hours and days like this, that get you in a good zone with someone else.