Paw Paw Bill to some is Uncle Bill to others. Among reminders received on Valentine’s Day of the power of love was this one from Marcia, whose mother, my sister, died at Christmas time.
Dear Sweet Little Sister and Uncle,
A few months ago Mother had an azalea plant on her patio. Jack had brought it to her from his grocery store and she kept it outside so she could enjoy its blooming yet not be disturbed by any pollen from it. The plant wasn't doing very well because she and Jack had not watered it much and had not pulled off the dried leaves and spent blooms. Mother told me to take the plant home to see if I could save it.
I put the small plant in front of the window in my office where it got plenty of sun and I watered it frequently and kept it free of dead leaves and old blooms. It bloomed like crazy with a plethora of pink and white blooms - turns out it was actually two small plants, one with pink flowers and one with white flowers. I've continued to water it and baby it as a reminder of Mother.
When I watered it this morning the plant yielded a surprise - there were two white buds on one of the branches. Those two buds have opened into flowers just in the past few hours.
I know this scenario sounds hokey and I wouldn't believe it myself if the flowers weren't right in front of me. Happy Valentine's Day.
Love and hugs,
Marcia
Copyright 2008 by William C. Cotter
Friday, February 15, 2008
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2 comments:
Marcia is obviously a plantswoman.
She knows how to make something grow and bloom....the key of course is to give the plant the attention it wants, needs, and deserves. I can't wait until it's time to garden again. My tiny plot is an area about the dimensions of half a twin bed (lengthwise). My method is Darwinian, i.e. strew a bunch of zinnia, cosmos, and other easy-success seeds and let the best plant win. Of course they get a topping of potting soil, some Osmocote pellets, and water as needed. The zinnias come up first, followed by the cosmos, and the combination gives me blooms
until frost. Last year I planted a rose-of-sharon hibiscus and I look forward to seeing those platter-size blools again in the summer.
I told Jolie I feel indirectly famous being quoted on your blog. How sweet of you! The flowers are still there today, two huge blooms that seem to glow in the sunlight. I've been quite touched by the experience.
Another unexpected thing happened a month or so earlier when I brought home the first box of items from Mother's condo. When I got home I put the box in the living room, planning to unpack it the next day. Very late at night I couldn't sleep so I was listening to some classical music on Public Radio when I realized I was hearing some sound that didn't seem to match the music. I turned off the radio and could still hear some faint sound coming from somewhere. Since I live alone, I don't like hearing strange noises late at night but I make myself get up and find out what and where they are. After quite a few minutes of checking various places upstairs and downstairs, I realized the noise was coming from the box in the living room. With an eerie, sick feeling in my stomach I cautiously opened the box. The noise was the little brown clock from Mother's living room table. The alarm was going off and it was muffled by a scarf I had wrapped around it to keep it from getting damaged. I started crying with a mixture of relief and sadness. A few minutes later I had to laugh, however, when I inspected the clock closely and realized Mother had put scotch tape all over it to hold it together. I put it on a table in my living room where it has been keeping good time.
Big hugs to you and Annette.
Love,
Marcia
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