It bloomed anyway

I received the gift of an amaryllis bulb growing kit a while ago. At the time, my life was unsettled due to my husband’s ill health. I put the kit on a shelf in my garage and forgot about it.

A year and a half ago, I was moving out of my house to a smaller place and had to downsize. Tackling the garage was the last thing I had to do. I had put it off, because the task was ominous. I only had so much mental and physical reserve.

I found the bulb in its package on a shelf. I felt badly I had neglected it. I thought, “the least I can do is put it in a pot with a little dirt.” So I did. It was moved to my new place in the back of my friend’s old pickup truck along with my other plants and some backyard furniture.

The move did not go smoothly. All of my things wound up being stored in the truck overnight and then put in a storage unit. The few plants I had stayed in the back of my friend’s truck for a couple days. I gave up hope for them. I didn’t know my friend’s wife was watering them in my absence.

When I could finally move in and unload everything, there was the bulb in its pot. I set the pot on a table in the courtyard behind my house. “At least it is not in the dark garage,” I thought.

On the second day of unpacking, I tripped over a throw rug on the kitchen floor. I fell hard onto the tile floor and fractured the elbow on my left arm. I am lefthanded. I was told not to lift anything more than a pound with that arm for three months! I leaned on family and friends to help me arrange the basic things. I forgot about the bulb in the pot.

About six weeks later, I noticed the bulb had shot out the beginnings of some green leaves. Then leaves appeared, but no blooms. The pot sat outside all that winter and the following summer and into fall. About a month before Christmas last year, I saw the bulb had the pointy start of green leaves again.

“Huh,” I thought. The next morning, several inches of green were visible. It had grown that much in 24 hours. Those of you who know about amaryllis know this is entirely possible, but I did not. To my amazement, I had a stalk with buds and several leaves within a week’s time. It continued to grow. It bloomed with four bright red flowers and a second stalk, with more flowers. I enjoyed them for several weeks through the holidays last year.

Despite my neglect, it bloomed anyway.

One would think I would have learned something. I did remove the withered stalks and leaves after they turned yellow and unsightly last winter. The pot stayed outside through last spring and summer and into this fall. In the late fall, my youngest nephew stayed with me for two months.

As my Christmas gift, he and my brother worked hard to relandscape my courtyard, digging up and rearranging the slates, leveling the ground, and making it more even and less of a trip hazard. The pot was moved around higgledy piggledy during that process. After all, it was not on their project list.

Last week, to my surprise, the bulb began to bloom again! It quickly shot up leaves and a stalk and then a second stalk, both with buds.
The buds looked different. This time, the flowers are white! This sent me scurrying to Google.

Sure enough, amaryllis’s bulb flowers can change color. “Color change occurs mainly due to genetic shifts in hybrids, where the plant reverts to an earlier parent color, or from environmental factors.” Environmental factors, I’ll say! Despite everything, this bulb bloomed anyway.

I thought,”if this bulb can bloom anyway, so can I.” And so can you.

Here are a few lines from Mary Oliver’s book length poem, “The Leaf and the Cloud.”
(Published in 2000)
“When loneliness comes stalking, go into the field
And consider the orderliness of the world.
Notice something you have never noticed before.
Let grief be your sister. She will wither or not.
Rise up from the stump of sorrow, and be green also, like the diligent leaves.
A lifetime isn’t long enough
for the beauty of this world and the responsibilities of your life.
Scatter your flowers over the graves, and walk away.
Be good-natured and untidy in your exuberance.