Eight months ago, March 3, I arrived in Paris to "turn the page," as the French would say, on a new life. In order to mark the passage of my time in Paris, I started to grow an avocado pit during my first week in my gorgeous furnished flat on the place de la Madeleine.
Stubbornly, that pit sat impaled by three toohpicks in a glass of water for months and didn't budge. Then finally, the pit cracked and and sprouted roots and leaves, and I duly planted it in some potting soil purchased at BHV. (I won't read too much into the "stubborn pit" part, but it just might correspond to my initial HUGE learning curve in Paris, despite being relatively fluent in French-Literature French; B.A. and M.A. degrees just don't teach about RIBs, releves and all other manner of French day-to-day lessons.)
Here is a photo of my avocado tree -- perhaps a symbol of my life in Paris. Who knows?
It could just be a tree. But as long as it thrives, it will be a monthly feature, a reminder of how to grow and prosper in this city of light. This photo was taken three weeks ago. It, and I, have grown even more ("not sideways, I hope!" to paraphrase Lewis Carroll.)