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Season of renewal

Eastertime. I do not believe an acceptance of Christianity is necessary for one to accept the resurrection which occurs each spring. One only needs eyes open to the miracles of the season.

It was so long ago that I have completely forgotten the occasion when I was surprised with a lovely orchid plant. My heart sank as soon as I saw the delicately striped five petals with the deep purple veins. Buds of various sizes stretched to the tops of the two stems.

Beautiful? Yes. Exotic? Of course. But, while gorgeous and definitely welcomed into my home, it also distressed me for I am too sadly aware of my brown thumb.

I do well with weeds (they can be quite colorful, you know) and a few houseplants do flourish but mainly those I’d as soon dispose of — or which require no expertise whatsoever. Poinsettias for instance hold their blooms into summer though, candidly, I’d rather they didn’t. And I confess I do have a “way” with African violets: it’s the sunshine, however, and my doing my darnedest not to drown them. In fact they keep multiplying till I really have ENOUGH already!

But the gardenia (which I dearly cherish for the scent alone) develops buds — and drops them. The lemon plant blossoms and even produces buds: lemon-ettes. They too end up on the floor just about the time my hopes are starting to rise. A stunning hibiscus surprised me by producing bright red flowers when least expected — but that’s been ages ago.

I water and feed them all while being less than pleased as all this greenery continues to shoot up, blocking more and more of the view I cherish OUTSIDE.

I want to see the water and the birds and, for now at least, it still being early for spring, I will overlook the dead holly bushes and the countless briars which have popped up in the lily-of-the-valley bed. I was so proud of having totally cleared that of all weeds last summer.

(I raise binoculars, observe, smile and check two female mergansers off my list. I need those windows.)

But I hardly need to be reminded of all the work awaiting outdoors — once the sunshine pushes the temperatures back up at least into the sixties. I have ivy to trim, neglected last fall (the deer have left some), before it creeps up among the strips of siding. The chives have already flavored one dish and I’m pleased the sage is coming back now that I’ve found a use for all those leaves. There’s work to be done no matter which direction I turn. But it’s work I enjoy.

For today, however, I get a day “off” to stay inside, a day to sit and enjoy my Easter surprises.

Turns out I had been right about that orchid.

The buds opened and made an impressive display. In time, as I’d feared, the flowers fell off and the pot sat: half a dozen green leaves with two barren stems.

Figuring green was green I stuck it beneath the plant table where it has probably sat for the past year or so. I’d water it — “just a quarter of a cup a week” — when I remembered. It lived in total neglect.

Perhaps neglect is a better cure than a green thumb for today it too has resurrected.

I count three perfect flowers with four more to come — if I’m lucky.

I know we’re blessed.

Susan Crossett has lived outside Cassadaga for more than 20 years. A lifetime of writing led to these columns as well as two novels. “Her Reason for Being” was published in 2008 with “Love in Three Acts” following in 2014. Information on all the Musings, her books and the author may be found at Susancrossett.com. She may also be contacted at musingsfromthehill@gmail.com.

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