Of the seven little birches I dug up, three show signs of life still.
But life can be stubborn. Just a few days ago it was still just one.
I have politely asked Marzanna, the patron of my witchcraft, the Goddess of winter and death and of farming, to not embrace these just yet. It is summer, I implored her to leave them to Mokosz, the Goddess of rain and life and feminine strength.
She has already let three of them go. Perhaps she'll spare one or two more?
Either way, life continues.
The oaks that I grew last autumn do not seem dead yet but they do not grow. I will wait for their fate to become apparent. From their pot, a new leafy plant has sprouted that I can't identify. It's strong and quick to grow. I've welcomed it to its new home. The oaks have their space in the pot and then some, and I take a more laissez-faire approach towards what lives on my balcony.











