And the GOOD news is...

(drum roll please)

The Plant Rescue Department is now official:

*ksquest* is a Registered Nursery.

In 2-3 weeks, my Registration Number will arrive in the mail, and I can put it out there for all and sundry to see. But as of today, I can sell nursery stock any time to any one. I'm good to go.

All for the grand total sum of $25.00, and a couple minutes to fill out an application form, and 20 minutes or so walking my property with a quiet and pleasant and wise nursery inspector called Nury. After which we sat and talked for an hour and a half, just enjoying each other's company.

I am so excited I can't stand it. Too thrilled for words.

YIIPPEEEEEEEE!

I've considered doing this off and on for many years. Sometimes I'd think: How could I take it if, during one of my housebound periods when I can't get out and water, half my stock died? And they were plants that someone had had their eye on and wanted and cared about?

Well. I've been waiting to get it together to get a watering system in. That's one solution.

The other one was an attitude thing. It had to do with the hurricanes.

See, hurricanes are well known Attitude Adjusters.

Then, rescuing all those plants that were waiting to go to the chippers was an experience that may mean something extra to a disabled person.

It's a giving back, a validation of the worth of one's existence.

And something else: a salvaging of a life that's damaged, but still has a will to live, to revive, and to thrive in its own way. To be.

Sometimes these bad feelings hit us. We listen, right or wrong, to others or our own selves whispering in our ears about how we're not contributing, we're a drain on society, we're nanny staters, we're bleeding the healthy dry and giving back nothing in return...

With the exception of those who commit deliberate fraud, I don't go along with that kind of thinking. But I know it's there. And once in a blue moon, in a black moment, I may succumb to it for a bit.

It's not true. We all contribute one way or another, and I know I contribute in various ways that aren't small.

Seeing the life I brought back from hurricane damage meant something new. I'm not sure how or why. But I could certainly feel it. It was on the faces of the people I talked to as I made my rounds collecting bits of plants and wood, this tender and unshielded expression of relief and grief and hope all mixed up together.

If I asked, --Do you mind if I take this plant out of your debris pile and see if I can grow it?-- the answer almost always went like this: --Oh, please, please take it, yes. I'd so much rather see someone make it live and not die, if you can. I was hoping and hoping someone like you would come along before the cleanup people got here...

So now, here I am, registered and real. Knowing I found it in me to get out and water some in the recent dry spell. I lost some plants, yes. Only a few. Less than many other people who watered a lot during this unusual drought. That, I can take.

I'm still basking in the look of wonder on that inspector's face as she told me she'd never seen any grower or retailer plant plumeria the way I did. Ever. How healthy and pest-free and lush they were. Flowering in not one, but two, colors she'd never seen.

After she left, I figured this day was worth a small splurge, and headed over to Lotus Chinese Kitchen for a take-out lunch. Inside a fortune cookie I found the following message:

Do not be too timid and squeamish about your actions. All life is an experiment.