No comments on 3/9/23
Category: a day in this life
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Last night, I went to a book club meeting at a bookstore in Greensboro. One of the participants loathed the book. “Full disclosure, I’m a free lance writer.” and she tore it apart.
When it was my turn to give any input, I said “I thought it was fun. It was a delightfully entertaining way to get through tedious work and yard work. I wasn’t looking for it to be great literature.”
When I was in high school and in my very early 20s, I was active in our local little theater. I worked on the stage crew, did props, built sets and performed some. It was great fun and I enjoyed the community.
One evening when I was between shows, I went to a performance at another theater. About 2/3 of the way through the first act, I realized that I was watching the stage management, not getting lost in the story.
I quit working on any plays after that. I didn’t want my knowledge of how flies work and costume changes are managed to take me out of the story any more.
I think the book club woman’s work has taken away her ability to just let the story flow over and into her. I think she has gotten distracted by the rigging and the lights.
(For the record, the book was Six Wakes by Mur Lafferty, a locked room, science fiction murder mystery.)
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I will never in my life watch a wood fire burn without thinking of my maternal grandmother. Kate always had a fire place and used it.
I vividly remember going to her house one year for Xmas and sitting by the fire to eat pound cake and drink orange juice. The orange juice was odd. Not as odd as drinking it after brushing your teeth. But, it should have been milk. I suspect something didn’t get picked up at the grocery. And, aside from my grandfather who had already gone to bed, I have no clue where the rest of my family was.
When I reminded her of that night 30-odd years later, she was surprised that I remembered it, too.
After her house was broken into twice after my grandfather died, she decided to take my parents up on their offer to live with them. (She was out of town both times.) That mother-in-law’s apartment had a fireplace, too. When she didn’t remember to open the flue when she started a fire and sat bundled in a blanket with the windows open until they came home from work, her daughter and son-in-law had to start making plans for her to live somewhere with more supervision as they both still had to work full time and there was no one to stay with her when they weren’t there.
I have no idea how many nights we sat by a fire and talked about poetry and history. She was especially enamored of the Tudors.
Orange and black embers with a lick of blue flame is a portrait of my Mama.
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Many years ago, (a decade? longer? less?) I found a Phalenopsis at the grocery that was absolutely lovely. I have never been successful with orchids, as much as I love them, and had given up bringing them home with me. It hurt my feelings to see them die in my care.
But, this orchid had a tag that said I could keep it healthy and happy if I would but 3 ice cubes on it once a week. It was relatively inexpensive so I brought it home.
And it didn’t die.
When the blossoms finally withered, the stem they had grown on remained green. I am a believer in leaving green alone until it finishes producing food for the plant. A new stem grew off the side of the original one and made more blooms. That’s the first time I ever got new growth on an orchid.
Eventually, I got it an orchid pot. And, again, it didn’t die when I transplanted it. (That’s the new pot in the picture.)
But, it didn’t bloom for a couple of years. I was about to give up on new blossoms when we went to a show by the local orchid society. I asked one of the members about my plant he suggested fresh growing medium and orchid food spray.
I did both things. After 3 or 4 months of no change, I was about to give up completely when I saw a stem starting. It bloomed and the blossoms lasted a long time on that single stem.
Last Fall, I got another stem of flowers and have left the stem alone while it remained green, even though the blossoms have been gone for months.
It’s rewarding me with another bloom branch and appears to have 2 buds forming.
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I really enjoy messing with plants. I love it when seeds I’ve put in the ground or something I’ve stuck in a pot flourishes and blooms. I like blossoms as decorations. But, it always feels like a lie when my friends comment on my “green thumb.” I don’t have an innate gift for growing things. I’m just persistent.
Many, many years ago, I decide that the best thing I could do was to choose plants that like the way I treat plants. Generally speaking, that means sticking them in the ground and ignoring them. If something is in my yard, it cannot demand a great deal of care past a first year of watering while it gets established. Plants in pots get a lot more attention and water.
My herb bed is in a 100-gallon water trough and it does get watered. I feel like those plants are owed that much attention for being in that container. Same for the asparagus. When it was in a raised bed that was just lifted up from the ground, it got less coddling.
My inside plants are all things that want watering. Succulents die in my care and our only cactus is the responsibility of my husband because we both know I would drown it. We have an aloe, a gift from a friend, that is in a room where I don’t see it often and I am not allowed to water it.
I have learned to read tags at garden centers. I live in zone 7b. If you look at the USDA Plant Hardiness Zone Map, it looks like climate change is allowing 8a to creep up this way. But, it’s not here yet. So, I plant accordingly. I don’t buy plants that only thrive in zone 5 (or wherever).
I have learned that there are some plant varieties that prefer different climates than their relatives. There are hot climate lilacs and cold climate lilacs. Generally, big box garden centers don’t care if a plant will thrive for you. If you buy it, they have made a sale. If it dies, you will be back to buy something else. If you don’t believe me, look at the tags the next time you’re at Lowe’s or Home Depot and see how many plants they have for sale that are labeled for different zones than the one where you live.
I have learned, too, that some plants are never going to love me and I just have to accept that. Even reading everything I can find online and on the tags from the nursery will not save the life of a fuchsia or bougainvillea. Coming to my house is a death sentence for those plants. I think they are beautiful and I long to have them flourishing all around me. But, I am not a fit caretaker for them.
I am the Audience 