Root Inspection

I stepped over the cedar divider of the tea box and climbed onto the low dining room windowsill. Ribbit. Resting in a small cast-iron stand was a slender glass vial filled with clear water, holding a single heart-shaped ivy cutting. Down inside the cylinder, three pale, thread-like roots had sprouted, suspended cleanly in the cold liquid. I braced my boots against the iron base and pressed the flat of my palm against the smooth curve of the glass. The water inside had retained the quiet morning chill from the pane. It is remarkably efficient how cleanly a cutting anchors itself when given nothing but still water.