First Roots, Then Blossoms

I'm standing at the kitchen sink as the bright yellow sunlight streaks across the windowsill in front of me. I check the gardenia cutting--the one that's been sitting in a glass of water for weeks now--for roots.

Not yet. I change the water, remove the lower leaves, and put the cutting back into the glass.

This is going to take weeks.  

It needs roots before I can plant it (although sometimes you can just plant it and wait for root growth if you keep the soil very moist). I have to let the nutrient delivery system grow into place before I can do anything safe with this cutting.

Only then will I plant and wait for the cutting to grow and deliver that particular summer scent of gardenia. It's a Victorian Tea Party kind of fragrance. It's a kind of fragrance that makes you want to mind your manners, slow down, and act a bit refined. I just love that crisp, clean smell.  

The whole discipline and patience of rooting plant cuttings keeps me focused on God's processes in my own life. That certain and absolute reminder that I need strong roots if I'm going to survive settles me down when  I get impatient. First roots. Then blossoms.

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Have you successfully rooted garden cuttings?