Taking cuttings in the kitchen sink was not ideal. I’m sure a snail avoided my clearing up, and the frost-sludged leaves flicked onto everything, leaving spatters of wet blackness indiscriminately.
But the Persicaria needed cutting back, rampant outside the kitchen window despite the frost damage. New pink spears are repopulating the corner of the bed, sneaking out from under the blackened leaves, so vividly alive. I couldn’t bring myself to relegate all this survival to the compost bin, so inside they came, to be divided between water and jiffies.
The cuttings are spread among the house now, as window sills become a premium. A hyacinth vase in the living room, where rooting can be spied from the sofa; a shell-shaped Japanese teapot hanging in the backroom, making use of its handle; and a little ramakin of jiffies by the sink in the kitchen. In sight of their parentage I’ve put them to rest, the ritual lifting and inspecting for the tiniest threads of root will be my prize for washing up.
a year in the garden 