Originally, this was to be yesterday’s “photos only” post. But I am addicted to providing context, and before I know it there are a few hundred words on the page. Or in the text box, as it were.
I got home Sunday night, unpacked, and the need to clean and de-clutter soon extended to my room and the rest of the apartment, yarn stash included. I thought that I ought to find some better way of storing all my fiber that didn’t involve an old duffel bag, both drawers of an end table, an old document box, and a basket, most of which were stacked in a waist-high tower in the corner of my room. And in surveying my options, I realized my apartment had a built-in storage solution: a built-in hutch/breakfront thing that I’d only been using for a handful of mugs. Problem solved.
With it all in one place, it really hit me how much yarn I’ve got stockpiled, and I even found a few old yarns that I loved and, sadly, forgot about. Thanks to the new yarns there are now a few new plans brewing, but that’s for another post…
And, for today’s unrelated photo, let me preface this. H and I tried making some moss terrariums back in the fall, and they just didn’t work out. We had way too much water, and everything went from lush to moldy to black and sticky looking. By then it was winter, and no more moss to be found.
So… yes, I let these jars of dead, wet moss just sit in my room. (The jars were sealed, by the way.) To be fair, some little bits were still growing, and I wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt. But mostly everything was just dead. Fast forward through about 3+ months of stagnation to last night. I didn’t notice it until I sat down to get ready for bed, but there it was: a stem! In just the space of leaving Saturday morning and getting back Sunday night, the acorn I’d so decoratively placed within the terrarium broke through its shell and took root in the jar. (Note: The glass is very murky with mold and moisture, and then there are reflections, too. It’s not a clear picture, but if I transplant it ever, I promise a decent photo.)
And so, from a jar of dead plants a new life grows. I’m gonna keep this little thing and see how well I can raise it. Oaks can live up to two centuries, you know. It might even outlive us.