This plant, a gift from Ben and Wendy, was practically outgrowing its pot at one time. Its branches were tall and abundant. One day, it's abundant branches were bone dry and its leaves were brown. Matt and I had a dispute. He was adamant that the plant was dead. I disagreed. "Let's give it a chance," I said. "I think it will grow back again." I cut the branches down to stumps and put aluminum foil on the ends to preserve whatever moisture they'd retained. One day there was a miracle. I looked at the plant and saw that a new tall branch had grown overnight. No, not a miracle, but a joke. Matt had taken a branch that he had trimmed from a backyard bush and put it in the pot. We laughed together at this, Matt repeating his verdict that the plant was dead. Life proved him wrong. Thankfully he lived to see the new growth and I got a chance to say, "Ha ha, I told you so."
The plant to the left may eventually reach the ceiling. Such is the way of a healthy plant. I've attached a string from the ceiling to the supporting pole so that it can do this. Eventually I'll cut the plant down, shear off its proud growth, so that I can entrust it to Rachael's care when I take a multi-week vacation. Such is the life of a plant and the whims of a human. The plant to the right was a Christmas gift from Rachael. Small yellow roses bloomed from it and perhaps will bloom again when the season is right.
I found myself thinking about the message of flowers when I received them in sympathy for The Recent Event. Flowers seem to be the all-purpose messenger. They speak of love and forgiveness, of get-well-soon and condolence. I balked at this when I saw that the flowers I was given were starting to die. It would seem to me that I've had enough of Death without having to witness it in the friggin flowers. But flowers always, no matter what the occasion, teach us about the whole process of life. Some flowers die before others. Leaves can last much longer. Eventually death will seek every thing and every body. In the meantime, there is beauty and there is joy, not diminished by its eventual passing, but exalted in It's moment for the moment we share and the next one if it is granted to us.
GOD BLESS - 3 a.m. on a Sunday and I'm tradin' sleep for a poem thinking 'bout all the folks who will don their Sunday finery to hang out in a pew with you and you a...
1 day ago