Rather than dashing out to buy peonies or tulips this Friday, I am simply staring at one of my potted plants. Two birthdays ago, one of my dearest friends from high school/soul sister sent me this orchid. It bloomed a glorious fuchsia shade for about a month and then, as they do, the blooms all fell off.
Reading that orchids were very tricky to maintain, I researched and hoped my thumb would turn green. I cut the stalk down to an inch tall, dabbed the "open wound" of plant with cinnamon (to prevent infection), and placed the orchid outside on our porch. Orchids love temperature swings, the internet garden gnome said, so I thought the highs and lows of the California seasons would be well matched to my orchid's finicky nature.
There she sat for a year and a half. The stalk slowly grew, and I waited patiently.
And then a few months ago, I noticed tiny little pods developing---a revelation!
On Monday, I went out on the porch to see that dormant orchid opening her petals to the sun. All things worth having are worth waiting for, as the saying goes.
The friend who gave me this special birthday plant has had an especially sad year. I think of her strength each time I see that brilliant pink flower. Like the orchid's bloom, I hope that after a year of rest and recovery, she'll be back to share her colors with the world.
58 minutes ago