Six years after being given this now partially dormant, root-bound oxalis by my dear friend and artist Bruce Stiglich, it was now time for me to split it up and pass it on. Strange to admit, but I love this plant. We love this plant. Ron and I used to gauge our happiness by the oxalis' health, and thought it died whenever we were unhappy. Eventually we realized it had nothing to do with our individual happiness and everything to do with the occurrence of winter.
Most things are smart enough to just pack-it all in and sleep during those depressing, cold months bookending the year, and the oxalis was no exception. By early March, I'm so over winter and ready for the sun's angle to shift, that, in the words of Madame Boavary, I long at "the same time to die and go and live in Paris" - though I doubt Paris is anywarmer, better to be chilly in Paris than cold and bored at home.
As a student at Interlochen we used to refer to this time of year, specifically February, as the Suicide Awareness Months and had two reasons; 1)Seasonal Affect Disorder coupled with college essay /audition stress and big-envelope/little-envelope anxiety can be a fatal mix; 2) if you're not feeling suicidal, chances are your roommate is.
As I separated the tuber shaped rhizomes in five masses of root and dirt, I thought of this particular plant's past:
According to Bruce, he got it from Ari Benjamin who got a piece from his mother, Momma Ledesky, maker of the best cole slaw on earth, who got a piece from her mother, who got it from who knows where. I bet it could be traced back even further if I asked, but that's all I'm certain of at the moment and far enough back for a good daydream.
I re-potted the pieces, kept one for us, and plan on passing along the four others. Clover Come, Clover Go.
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