Lessons from an Orchid

May the beauty of your day, take your breath away  – unknown

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I’m in sort of a lull in a creative sense.  My energies are spread elsewhere now that my husband is recovering from knee surgery.  This period draws parallels to an experience I had with dormancy and reblooming…

It was a gift, an orchid plant for my desk at the end of my last school year before retirement. Six blooms of royal magenta, tinged with highlights of yellow cascaded down like the contour of a woman’s haughty hip.  It was one of those grocery store variety orchids, nothing too out of the ordinary except for the color of the flowers.  They positively glowed like a stained glass window in the light.

I absorbed the beauty of these blooms every day for weeks until each slowly shriveled, dried and dropped.  I sadly removed their spent forms one by one.  What was left were several deep green ovate leathery leaves and the tall, now naked flower stem in a plain clay pot.

“I just throw them away” a friend commented on my bloomless orchid.  But I could not, the only crime of this plant needing rest after a grand performance. I remember my father saying that he got his orchids to bloom again.  After enjoying such a spectacular show, I felt it a crime to sentence this plant to death in the compost pile.

I left the orchid on my bedroom window sill, watered it, and waited.  Over a year passed and I realized that it probably needed special nutrients to bloom.  I purchased some spray fertilizer just for orchids.  In a few more months, I had a stalk full of orchid flowers to enjoy again.  It is now in its third bloom.

This experience got me to thinking how we humans too need to be nurtured in life to bloom and then given periods of rest.  This reminds me not to give up in dry times, be patient and to get the self-care I need to be creative.  The compost pile of life awaits soon enough!

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Robin

robin-2506274_1920I had to let him go

Like the mother robin

Crowded with her noisy young

In the disheveled nest of twigs overhanging the patio door

Whose scruffy chicks were there one day

Then gone the next

Never to return

Continue reading “Robin”