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All of my children are out in the world, so I've been busying my hands for the day with story-writing and pattern-cutting.

I transplanted my chive today. I threw pebbles in the pot's bottom, threw in the potting soil, topped it with the clump of chive roots and soil that pulled out of its tiny home. I placed them in the middle of their new, larger pot. Right in the middle.

I added a top layer of potting soil and patted it down, covering knobs of white, root-like material at the base of the chive stem. When I knew that the roots were secure, I reached for a watering can and noticed that the chives had wormed their way to the side of the pot. Somehow, in my patting and securing, I'd edged them over.

And that's where they'll stay. I'm hoping they won't be intimidated by the basil they've been reunited with, which has its third set of leaves and is a deep, vibrant green.

When I potted the chives, I poured a small cup of water over them. I took the extra over to my milkweed, which is the height of my forearm. I was excited by how strong the stems are, how resiliant the little plant has become.

I told my mom about the milkweed's strong hold on life while we did dishes, looking out the window and across the backyard to the flowerbed where they live. Without breaking a beat or thinking a second, Mom kept washing a dish and let out a flat, "Yay." I laughed. A weed.

Safflower blooms in July. Its branches are high; its leaves are like thistle with spines. Its taproot can grow in arid soil. Symptoms of a weed, an unwanted, unattractive flower. Spines.

I was on (never home)makers and found a recipe for Nutella pie that I'm excited to make for my family this weekend, while we celebrate the good weather and my long stay at home. I have a big craving for chocolate, so I went to the store today to pick up a few of the ingredients I'm missing, one of them being sunflower oil

I'm from a small town, so I wasn't expecting to find it at any of the groceries. If I had patience, I could check the farmers' market tomorrow. I wasn't. I went to the baking aisle and was surprised to find everything I needed in the size I needed and not too exorbitant prices. I got my sister a frozen coffee and headed for home.

When we got back, I took another look at my supplies. Whole-wheat flour. Safflower oil.

Wait.

Safflower oil?

Yes. Safflower, from a few feet back and with strained eyes, read Sunflower. Now, I am stuck with it. A weed in the kitchen pantry that's not worth returning, which fortunately will work the same as sunflower oil without much change to taste.