Transcript
A (0:00)
Few things are as uplifting as the greatest moments in sports, and nothing brings us together quite like Team USA at the Olympic Winter Games. From NBCUniversal's iconic storytelling to the innovative technology across Xfinity and Peacock, Comcast brings the Olympic Games home to America, sharing every moment with millions. When Team USA steps onto the world stage, we're not just watching, we're cheering together. This winter, we're all on the same Team Comcast, proud partner of Team usa.
B (0:30)
This podcast is supported by Viking, committed to exploring the world in comfort. Journey through the heart of Europe on an elegant Viking longship with thoughtful service, destination focused dining and cultural enrichment on board and on shore. And every Viking voyage is all inclusive with no children and no casinos. Discover more@viking.com.
C (0:58)
I'm Maggie Smith and this is the Slowdown. I have a confession. I want to have a green thumb, but I can't for the life of me keep houseplants alive. Other people's apartments look more like greenhouses or gardens. They're filled with so many plants, and my writing room is completely wrapped in windows just begging to be filled with hanging leaves and vines. The green would be good for my soul, especially during the long Midwestern winters. But it's not going to happen. I have a brown thumb. Or as one of my kids generously said when they were younger, mommy, you have a soft thumb. You're good at taking care of people. I like that, and I'll take a soft thumb over a brown thumb any day. I am good at taking care of people, and even my dog is beyond pampered. But the plants in my house are constantly fighting for their lives. Even the succulents are alarmed. I think they know that I once killed an airplane, an air plant. They're supposed to be the lowest maintenance plant you can have, and I managed to kill one. My soft thumb was no consolation to that poor spidery looking thing. These days I have just one little spiny cactus and one ficus holding strong, and I feel like I'm jinxing us by even mentioning them. Please send your best wishes their way. As you might imagine, I'm not an outdoor gardener either, but I do have plenty of plants growing in my yard, most of them volunteers. They pop up as surprises from seeds carried by birds or the wind or left behind from previous seasons, unintended and self grown. My neighbor's yard, for example, is completely bordered in rows of sharon tall flowering plants that the bees love. As the flowers have fallen onto my side of the fence, or as the seeds have blown over. New plants have sprouted up all over my yard. They're invasive, like the mint I have to rip out every year as it spreads in a dense patch along my back patio. I haven't planted these things, but they grow anyway. Today's poem reminds me that even though volunteer plants may create extra work for me, I respect their hardiness, their resourcefulness, and their ability to take root. Geranium by Karen Solely it seemed needlessly cruel that I couldn't coax even the hardiest, homeliest, dullest of plants to grow in the one west facing window of that place, with its air conditioner sealed with duct tape that didn't work and its mouse hole stuffed with steel wool that did. And an equally needless kindness even more unbearable, that unexpected flowering inside the cheap circumference of the pot while I was nearly bedridden of seeds borne on a broad wind that flew in and volunteered. The Slowdown is a production of American Public Media in partnership with the Poetry Foundation. To get a poem delivered to you daily, go to slowdownshow.org and sign up for our newsletter and find us on Instagram slowdownshow and bluesky.downdownshow.org.
