Hope floats. Turns out, so does dogfood.

I got up this morning checking items off my list for the trip to Los Angeles to spend Christmas with Darling Daughter and Prince Charming, excited about the opportunity to get away from the house for a few days and to spend some time just with family.

I had opened the computer to do a few things on it when I heard a crash in the kitchen. When I got there, Miss Kitty was on the floor near the garden window, scoping out her chances of hopping back up to chase out a wren that had flown in the back door; I had left it open so she and the Alpha Bitch could come and go as they pleased, and the bird apparently invited itself in.

MK was sitting on the floor where the dog food dish belongs, but in its stead were a ceramic bowl, a broken terra cotta pot, a potpourri of potting soil, pebbles, and dog food, and the remains of a once-healthy African violet. At one time, the violet had been potted in the terra cotta pot, which sat in the ceramic bowl with pebbles between the pot and the bowl; for several years, this has been my most successful means of keeping houseplants alive, and since this one had been on the edge of a shelf, it has to have been one of my healthiest plants. Not so much any more.

I scuttled the cat out of the kitchen, closed the doors, and went to work. A couple of times, the bird flew away from the window and I tried to point it toward the door, but not successfully. Eventually, it found its way out on its own when I wasn't watching.

I picked up the bowl and the plant (which still had a decent amount of dirt around its roots) and picked up as many leaves as I could. I decided the best way to separate the pebbles from the dog food and dirt was to run them all through a collander to get the dirt out and then to figure out how to get the dog food out of the pebbles so it wouldn't decompose and stink up the kitchen. I filled the sink with water and submerged the collander; I was pleased to see the dog food float to the top so I could skim it off. AB was pleased to have wet food in her bowl.

I found another flower pot and a bag of soil and established what was left of the violet back in the pot, stuck the pot in the bowl, and poured the pebbles back into place.

But I still had a small mountain of leaves left over. I found a tray from some ice chest we've owned, put in an inch or so of soil, and dusted the petioles with root starter, and lined up nearly three dozen leaflets in the tray. Number One Son had left a blanket bag from the cleaners on the dining room table, so I slipped the tray into the bag and stuck it in the garage, where I have a couple of lamps providing light 12 hours a day to the plants that would be outdoors if not for the erratic fall weather.

I've got a pretty good track record at starting plants from leaves, but I've never attempted it at this scale before—especially not the morning of a week-long trip away from home. And I already have three dozen violets in some stage of survival in a couple of places in the house.

Hope floats, and so does dog food. Whether or not the violets get that will take a few days to discern.