Northeastern Oklahoma in all its beauty is becoming a dry and barren wasteland. Claremore has water rationing in effect–voluntarily at this point, they say, but the end of all living things is in sight–and so my beautiful hydrangeas, hosta’s, and my prize possession and a special blessing–my brand new butterfly bush, is dwindling down to die.
So I’ve watched the struggling, spindly plant shrivel up, turn brown and brittle, and basically die. Besides, it’s only survived until now based on the fact that Vernon, my husband, has faith and has handled the watering. You see, I have a huge black thumb. I kill every living plant I come into contact with. I don’t think it runs in my family, because my Mom on the other hand, could jab a yardstick in the ground and make it grow and bloom. I’ve watched her!! The great Atlanta Plant Whisperer of 1983!
My daughter Shannon phoned from Houston, Texas late this afternoon to share news of her promotion at work. It was a real accomplishment for her, a career ‘star in her crown’. I told her I’d love to send her a plant, but until we discover if we’re solvent or not (has to do with short-term disability payments), I said I’d just send her photo’s of the beautiful peace lily we just received from our church following my husband’s shoulder surgery. It would be a sort of “congratulations/plant IOU”.
We talked back and forth, touching on 43 topics in the space of 10 minutes or so–we had to be quick ’cause she was at work. She started trying in her compassionate way to make me feel better about losing my butterfly bush, and shared a story.
“It can happen to anyone, Mom, it’s just the odds. We planted three white oak trees that were a gift from a friend. Two were placed in the back yard, and the third tiny one in the front yard. We did everything exactly the same for them, yet no matter what we did, the one sad little guy didn’t make it. So we pulled it up and threw it away. It’s a loss, but it can happen to anyone, trust me,” she went on.
In our mother/daughter fashion, I started listing things she could have tried–‘did you water them well? Did you feed them like the directions say? Did you…’ I went on in my helpful, searching voice. Then she began to giggle.
“Wait, Mom. I figured it out.”
“What? What’s different about your three trees?”
“Robert (her husband) planted the two big flourishing trees in the back yard. It was ME that planted the one that died in the front.”
We finished our conversation and I let her get back to work.
My next move was to take a few interesting pictures of the church family’s peace lily to send to Shan as her “IOU plant”. I placed the HUGE peace lily with its satiny red ribbon, nestled in a woven basket on a table by itself. It’s just spilling over with dozens of white blooms shaped like a shell, sort of a ‘jack-in-the-pulpit’ shape with the bumpy pistils each standing up in the shade of its own white shell.
I took a couple of shots of the entire plant, and then thought we needed a closeup or two of the blossoms. As I pointed my viewfinder at first one cobra-hood shape and then another, the old brain decided to take a left turn…the plant began to come alive! And I texted Shannon the following: “This is a big green jungle of leaves, hard to get it all in the frame.” “These white blooms are nodding at me. There’s so many they’re starting to bob and weave.” “Sheesh, Shan, I thought I heard them whispering…I think I’m going to give them names. One just said something about ‘the neighborhood…'” Realizing I sounded as nutty as I felt, I stopped all that and sent her the pictures…When it comes to plants, if ya can’t keep ’em, just fake it!