I did not want to cut off the stalk of brown stem whose trunk and roots had withered. The shoot that had grown out from its side had now turned a palsied shade of mustard and had eventually shown the same signs of demise. But finally, I felt 'we' had no other choice and nothing left to lose. I clipped, I discarded and replanted. And I held my breath.
Now, as I stand and look at the cutting of Bamboo that was once bent over, limp and dying a slow withering death, is now alive again, upright, green, and taking on new strength.
Life signs have returned and I wonder why I held on the dead parts so long.
