I hate cliches.

Such as spring is a time of renewal. Death is a reminder of life. Plants are needy little bastards that need light and water.

But often, cliches are such because they are true.

In two different instances in the last couple weeks, friends have given me plants. Useful ones, the kind you can eat rather than those you can look at. (They are useful, too, but less so to a fat guy.)

Sitting at one of my watering holes a couple weeks ago, a woman named Kat and I were talking about gardens. She and her wife put in a huge patch and grow everything from the usual tomatoes to kohlrabi. (Side note: What the hell is that?) I asked if I could rent some space from them and she kindly offered that if I come out to weed, I can take what I want. Well, as a divorced older guy, I don't need much. So I'll get exercise, vitamin D and an armful of free healthy veg. What a deal. Then Kat brought in a basil sprout I promptly killed. Turns out you can't keep a plant in a car when its 17 below. She kindly gave me a second and given I spend most of my time at work, I brought it there. It's thriving.

Not much later, my neighbor appeared at my door one evening. Understand, I'm an older fat guy so I had unbuttoned my pants. I furiously belted myself and answered the door. Carl had a pepper plant and a card for me. He and his wife had purchased a Catholic mass for my mother, to be celebrated in June as a mass of resurrection. My mom would have loved it. I'll join them at 8:30 a.m. some Thursday morning.

Now the pepper sits next to my basil plant, where I can pay attention, setting them in the sun and watering them every other day. And, this is key for a perennial plant killer, colleagues can look over my shoulder to ensure the plants thrive and survive.

Death, life, renewal, resurrection.

It's all real, whether my stubbornly empirical philosophy likes it or not.

Peace unto Ukraine and peace and renewal unto you my brothers and sisters.