I'm beginning to have a new respect for roots. Several times now I have thought that a plant was long gone, but have left the roots in place. Yesterday I was once again surprised by the results.
Last October, my son and his wife gave me a blue hosta for my birthday. We were already getting hard frosts, and the plant was small - so I was afraid to put it out in the garden. I nursed it along through the winter months in the house, though I would sometimes forget to water it.
By the time spring arrived, it only had one or two leaves on it. I planted it in the garden, expecting it to thrive; however, the two leaves it had shriveled up in response to being put out in the heat.
For months, there were just two little green stalks sticking up from the ground. The last time I looked I didn't even see those, and assumed that my husband had pulled it up when he weeded the bed. Much to my surprise, yesterday I saw that it had put up new growth. I watered it with pleasure.
Having had a similar experience with a clematis, I am beginning to have a new respect for roots. I'm beginning to think of them as Undercover Agents.
May you be aware of the Father's handiwork today.