Learning curves Read Online Free PDF Page B

and pots of heavenly smelling lavender.
    All pretty hardy plants, she recognized. Nothing there that would vex the average amateur gardener. But still, an achievement. And nice smells, too.
    Satisfied, she nipped inside to get her wine, then came back out and sat down on one of the rickety chairs. Life seemed so simple when she was out here, Jen thought to herself. So basic—life, renewal, and death were the only real principles. Plants didn’t have to worry about ex-boyfriends, estranged parents, and strategic alignment. They just got on with living, growing up toward the sun, and burrowing down for water and nutrients. They were tough, too—Jen loved nothing more than the sight of a little weed growing through concrete, a small display of power that reminded her that in spite of all the buildings, roads, and computers humans had built, they were never going to be able to tame Mother Nature.
    Jen sighed and took another gulp of wine. Taming her own mother was just as hard, she realized, as her eyes rested on the clematis for a moment and her brow furrowed a little. The plant had wrapped itself around the wires she had carefully positioned to support it, but was equally as wrapped around the jasmine next to it, which in turn had buried itself into the fence, taking advantage of every crack and hole. And there, at the base of both plants, was a small gardenia, its feeble attempts to grow being thwarted by the greedy climbers.
    She hadn’t even noticed the gardenia before—certainly didn’t remember planting it. Quickly she took out her trowel and, feeling her way with her bare hands, gently scooped out the roots and lifted the plant out of its resting place.
    She frowned, wondering where to put it. The left hand side of the garden was too shady and the right-hand side would leave it at the mercy of the various climbers that were ruthless in the pursuit of growth.
    “Where would I want to go?” she asked herself out loud. “Shade or sun? On my own or fighting for space?”
    Finally, she decided on a little space about a foot away from the clematis and dug a hole. Filling it with compost and earth, she eased the little plant in, gave it a quick blast of water, then sat back and let the last minutes of the autumn sun warm her face before it disappeared behind the wall.
    Just as she started to relax and let her mind drift far away from thoughts of her mother and Gavin, the phone rang, shattering her peaceful reverie. Jen reluctantly went inside to answer it.
    “So how was it?” Jen heard her mother’s voice and half wished she’d left it after all. Maybe she could learn something from the gardenia—if she’d ignored Harriet’s calls a bit more often she might not be doing the MBA in the first place, which would mean no aching arms and sore head.
    “Oh, Mum. Hi. Yeah, it was . . . well, you know. It was okay.”
    “Did you see your father? Did you find out anything?”
    Jen sighed. “Mum, I’ve been there one day. No, I didn’t see him and no, I don’t know anything yet. I’ve been in bloody lectures all day. I’m knackered actually, and I’m getting a real headache. . . .”
    “Oh dear,” Harriet said, rather unsympathetically in Jen’s opinion.
    “So anyway, how are things with you? Anything happening at Green Futures?” Jen asked conversationally. She wanted to hear about something other than corporate strategy and was even prepared to listen to one of her mother’s tall tales if that was all that was on offer.
    “Oh, you know, the usual sort of thing. We’re having a meeting next week that you might want to come along to—on the Sacred Feminine. You remember, it came out of our book club when we were reading
The Da Vinci Code.
We’ve got a meeting to work out strategies for building business success through empowering the Sacred Feminine in all of us—and in our clients. I think this could be really big for us.”
    Jen wrinkled her nose. This wasn’t quite what she’d had in mind for