Chronicle of the Cloud

Aww shucks. It’s almost like I asked for this opportunity. (I did. Thank you for indulging me, @laughingthelaughiest) General warnings for the description of things involved with terrible car accidents – aka screeching metal and lots of blood. Happy ending though, I promise! Nobody died.

I am six years old. My father plows snow in the winter months, which means that bolted onto the front of his work truck is a very heavy snow plow that – when not in use – rests primly about a foot above the ground like a lady lifting up her skirts as she steps over a puddle.

“Hey kiddo, do you want to come to work with me?” my dad asks one day during a relatively minor* snowstorm.

(* minor my ass)

Because there was nothing more exciting to me at this time in my life than sitting in a warm truck and watching what is essentially a large metal trough push tons of snow from one end of a parking lot to the other, I practically yell, “WHY YES DAD, THAT SOUNDS GREAT!!!” and we get in the truck.

Only instead of arriving at our intended destination, we encounter a car coming from the opposite direction that spins out on a patch of black ice and manages to hurtle broadside at full speed into the plow.

I am pretty much just flung forwards, and terrible things happen to my face when my body continues on its general trajectory towards the windshield. Thanks, momentum!

Luckily (and novel-like), there was a nurse a couple of cars behind us who stopped to see if everyone was okay. She opened my door to find that I was very clearly not okay, and while my father did his best to staunch the blood that was streaming down my face, she tasked herself with keeping me conscious until the paramedics arrived.

Being six and probably concussed, she didn’t talk to me about anything complicated. I did not know who the president was. I sure as heck couldn’t have told you the date. But my favorite subject in school? I know that! Reading! My favorite color? Yellow! My favorite animal? GIRAFFES.

It’s important at this stage to mention that this car accident occurred on a street where people lived, and there had been a group of boys playing in the snow two houses up from where the truck stopped. Boys + crushed cars + blood = apparently just riveting, because a couple of them were staring at me/the vehicles from a couple yards away.

At my presumably slurred but very enthusiastic response of “GIRAFFES!” one of these boys split off from the rest and hoofed it through the snow towards his house. I was too focused on wanting to sleep and the nurse not letting me to notice this, but it for sure happened. As you will see.

Several sirens later, I am loaded into the ambulance wearing a neck brace and what feels like all of the gauze on planet Earth. My dad climbs in next to me, and the paramedic is just about to shut the doors when there’s a very small voice from outside. 

We are all as so:

My father: probably still terrified that I’m going to die, literally could not care less what this other tiny child who is not his has to say, wants to get to the hospital, still has to call and tell my mom that I’m injured

The paramedic: good at his job, knows I’m stable, has a moment to spare, leans back out of the ambulance.

Myself: still in shock, staring up at the rows of medical supplies and disgustingly bright lighting, more concerned that my dad will crush my fingers than anything else going on in, say, the bleeding face area. (Severe head injury? Who’s she? DAD I KNOW YOU LOVE ME BUT PLEASE LET GO OF MY HAND THAT HURTS.)

The boy who had hoofed it home and then evidently hoofed it right back: “Would you please give this to the little girl who got hurt?”

Me now in the year 2018: wanting to cry because I still can’t believe this is a real thing that happened to me in real life and it wasn’t a dream it was real

So the paramedic says “Yes, of course. She’ll love it!” or something equally as efficient because I am still technically quite injured and they really do need to get to the hospital at some point. The boy leaves, the door is shut, the paramedic sets something on the stretcher next to me.

[pause for dramatic effect]

“Nothing says I love you like a gallon of heavy cream in her pussy”

Step 1: Pick leaves Gently twist the leaf near the base, it should snap off the plant cleanly. Good cuttings will be slightly rounded at the ends, and have no ‘open’ wound:

Bad cuttings will not grow, you need to make sure the whole leaf comes off in one go. Bad leaves are jagged, torn, or cut:

Step 2: Lay all cuttings inside on a piece of cloth. I usually put a piece of old scrap material down on my desk and lie all the leaves out in rows. I try not to pile up the leaves, as this tends to promote rot. Do not water at all. AKA no misting the leaves, no watering the leaves, nothing. Everything the baby succulent needs to grow is stored in the mother leaf, watering may rot the leaf before the new plant is big enough to survive on its own! Make sure the leaves aren’t in direct sun, as they will wither before they form new plants. Filtered light from a window is strong enough!

Step 3: Waiting After about 4 weeks you will start to see the first signs of life. The leaf may send out roots first, it may start to grow with no roots. Both are okay! 

Step 4: Planting (Start watering once a week at this stage) After 6-8 weeks the baby succulents will be big enough to plant outside! I do this by placing the leaves on top of loose, sandy soil that has not been compacted. I do not bother burying the leaves, as it tends to do more harm than good (you may snap roots/damage new shoots in the process):

I place all the plants together, they don’t really seem to mind! These is how they look after about 10 weeks:

When the plants are big enough, the mother leaf will shrivel up and start to die off:

IN THE FIFTH GIF HE PATS THE CUPS WITH HIS LITTLE PAWS TO MAKE SURE IT’S IN. BRB, DYING.

a day in the life….kinda