Hydrangea

The little plant that insisted on life

My Mother always has had a green thumb.  Anything she planted and nurtured would thrive and bloom and propagate and bring joy. The woman grew gorgeous orchids in our front bay window in the suburbs of Philly - I mean, seriously?  Even in the dead of winter! Folks would come into our home and be agog at these lush blooms right in our modest living room. And the African Violets she collected was simply wonderful. A corner was bright with grow lights and trays of prolific bloomers of all colors and varieties.

Once Mother and Daddy moved to Florida it was CRAZY! She had orchids and air plants hanging from every tree. There were blooming plants inside and out practically singing in happiness at her ministrations. She talked to them, of course. What true green thumb doesn’t? Oh, there’s also the case of the Norfolk Island Pine that was already many years old and living as a house plant up north. Once they planted it in the yard at their Florida home it was so happy that it grew and grew. It started at about 36 inches and became orders of magnitude larger than it had any right to dream of.  It’s still there.  It’s three times as tall as the one story house they owned. I know because you can see it on Google Earth!

I, on the other hand, am now god-awful at growing stuff. Back in the day I truly enjoyed having spider plants, and a sweet Ficus tree and greenery gracing my space. Now I’m too distracted and ignore things too easily. My heart hurts when something green and alive that has been put in my care is no longer alive from my lack of care. Plus there are the three little furry overlords ruling our home who chew on and knock over anything with leaves, or fronds, or blossoms. (Actually I think it’s only our girl, Meggie, but I can’t prove a thing.)

Photo by me - two African Violets I’ve kept happy up where cats can’t reach. The mug is a gift from my hubby that’s just too true. Tucker died in his dotage, but we are still ruled by the other three.

Just the other day I finally picked up a small pot that had a hydrangea in it. The blooms on it were so lovely and it made early spring just pop in Mother’s room.  Once the blooms were fading and she had me bring it home “to plant it” it landed outside and languished.  It was all brown and dead, and at last I decided to drop it into the garbage. When I did I was so surprised to see that beneath the brown dead leaves and blossoms there was green growth just pushing on through! 

Photo - Carole Silvoy

There’s an insistence to live in this little plant, and it’s being given another shot, and so am I.  Please wish us both luck.

This makes me think about other things I think are dead or finished or no longer possible. Reaching out and being in touch with my cousins. Having a running group text with folks I think about All The Time but don’t contact. Making the time to sit at my keyboard, grab my guitar or ukulele and make some music. 

Am I being open to these things still having life if I decide to look again? And am I also letting it be OK to not look again and let that go? 

I’m interested to hear how this idea resonates with you.  Please join in the comments and let’s share some things we might still find life in. And we can also talk about how we make it OK to let things go.