Blooming

My Mother can make any houseplant bloom and grow. She has no magical "southern exposure" window, no secret-recipe fertilizing compound, no training in botany. She simply has a green thumb.

This has been a family legend for years. Once, while doing a super-tidy in my home when my parents were on their way to town, I tossed out a mostly-dead, very ugly houseplant. It had been hanging on by a thread - well, more literally, by about two straggly leaves! - for some time, and I was tired of trying to make it happy, so I tossed it in the trash.

My parents arrived. Inevitably, my mother opened the trash can, saw the discarded plant, and retrieved it. We joked about the poor little thing, and she tucked it away with her belongings.

Six months later I was visiting my parents' home and noticed a new plant - a large healthy, dark green bushy thing sporting small white flowers. "Nice plant," I commented, "Where did it come from?"

"Your trash," my Mother replied, just a bit smugly.

Now, this post could be about our throwaway society, and how we need to repair and nurture, not toss out - a subject upon which I am passionate - but this post is simply about my houseplants.

A few years back my Mother gave me several little leaves she had plucked out of her African violets. She instructed me to place them in water until they rooted, plant them, and then eventually they would grow into beautiful blooming African violets. (I think the key word here is eventually.)

This seemed like quite a bit of work for such a small reward, especially since a person can purchase an African violet - in bloom - for about 5 dollars. But, she is my Mother, so I followed the instructions. Sure enough, the bottom of the leaves grew little hairy roots. I carefully planted them. They didn't do much for some time, but then quite suddenly the leaves multiplied and the plant began to look like something.

Now, 3 years into this project, the first pink blossoms are appearing. I have to admit that it is very satisfying to have grown it from a leaf. Just like it is more pleasing to bake a loaf of bread than to buy one, and more fulfilling to knit a sweater than to purchase one. And, everyone knows that it is much tastier to grow a tomato than to pick one up at the store! It is good to be part of building something beautiful. All it takes is a bit of time and a willingness to work. It all turns out eventually.

Update on a Sunflower

This is the sunflower I mentioned in my first blog.
It was the first in the garden to bloom, and is now
starting two more flowers further down the stem.

It is still staked with a bamboo stick and a length of fuzzy white yarn, but it does not actually need this support any longer.

Makes me smile!

Pinching Back the Basil

The basil looks great.

Weeks ago, when the basil plants were so small that I could easily count every tiny leaf, I pinched off a few precious leaves here and there to encourage the plant to branch out and thicken. It was hard to make myself pinch the plants back – it seemed as if I was taking away so much of the plant, and that I was wasting the potential of the removed leaves that would never have a chance to grow large.

Of course, the pinching back was necessary. If I had not forced the plants back, they would never have grown to be so generously proportioned. These plants are huge and thick; some of the fragrant leaves are 4 inches long and 2 inches across! Every day I pick basil for our summer meal preparations, but the supply never seems to diminish. At the end of the season, there will still be enough basil left to put up several batches of pesto for this winter’s pleasure.

I feel a bit like that pot of seedling basil, sporting more potential than leaves, because God is always pinching me back. I am perfectly happy being my rather small self – thank you very much! – but God desires that I become more, so He pinches back my leaves, and removes little parts of me. Sometimes the things he asks me to prune back seem just a bit too much - WAY outside my comfort zone, but as He prunes He encourages me to branch out in new ways. In time, this always happens.

I cannot honestly say that I enjoy the pinching back, but I do enjoy the result: a stronger me that is of more use to myself, to others, and to God himself.

Sunflower

Except for the tiny belt of fuzzy white yarn, it looks like all the other sunflower plants. It stands tall and straight; it sports the typical heart-shaped leaves and it is topped by the almost imperceptible promise of an August bloom.

Three weeks ago it was dying. My father discovered it bent in half, an inverted V, wilting and wasting away in the muddy spring soil. The outside of the stalk was intact, but the inside had obviously been smashed. Dad suggested that we stake it up so that the "life would flow back through the plant." He insisted that the sunflower would heal itself if it were supported. My initial thought was that it was all a waste of time, but, hey, he was the farmer, not me! I dutifully harvested a bamboo stake, and found a length of soft yarn left over from some knitting project. Kneeling in the dirt, Dad gently tied up the injured plant. It looked pathetic.

Twenty-one days later it is healthy and strong, well on the way to producing a glorious bloom. It is going to be one beautiful sunflower.

Sometimes a bit of extra attention can mean so much.