Writing about the poinsettia, I keep having the unnerving feeling that I’ve done it before. Like the different ducks from earlier Musings that all nest in trees, there is of course another introduced red plant we associate with Christmas: the amaryllis.

It too has been tweaked to be available in the same range of colors besides the common crimson: orange, pale green, cream, pink, white and even a marbled variety. And, like the amaryllis, the poinsettia can be kept practically indefinitely if sent to a dark spot until it turns red again.

I confess I have no desire to try. I am not that patient. Besides, by the holidays, these plants in their great variety of colors are as ubiquitous as the seasonal carols. It’s much easier just to plunk down a couple of dollars and skip the daylight and darkness. Besides, I was further warned, trying to keep those long dark hours can be marred by any incidental light such as a TV or even what might creep beneath a door frame. I have no place where I can promise total black-out conditions for two months.

Actually, my problem is the reverse.

The poinsettia is lovely – I do prefer the red ones – and it certainly holds its colored bracts well. But I confess I do get a bit tired of it by Eastertime.

I have never had the heart to kill a plant – or even wish one dead. Well … there was one “accidental” demise this winter. Looking rather tropical this nameless plant could be a small tree. (Did I mention that poinsettias in the wild can grow to over ten feet? Or that the flowers are straggly and not well-spaced? I saw many on land while I was sailing last March.) This other thing now has foot-long ovate green leaves (alternate, if anyone cares) which are razor sharp. It’s attacked me any number of times. Not worthy of a death sentence just for that, perhaps, but the danged thing has popped its pot (the way I feel after devouring too many Easter treats) and I reasonably cannot be expected to replant such a giant. It wintered on the deck which I must say added some pleasant green until done in.

When I began writing this in October, my poinsettia was sitting on the deck as well, commiserating perhaps with the doomed plant next to it.

The poinsettia, brought home in late 2014, turned green many months ago. It’s doing well. I doubt if it could be healthier. I can’t say as much for the three amaryllises who each sprout three long droopy leaves. I’m sure I water them too much. When they give up, I’ll relegate them to the attic where they’ll be forgotten until some future time when I happen to notice one (or more) with new growth popping up out of the pot. They do that regularly and quite easily.

It doesn’t appear that my poinsettia will have to go that far. Then again, how long do I “enjoy” an uninspiring – if healthy – green plant? I have enough of those and, in all honesty, do appreciate a flower or two from the ones who can.

The hibiscus must be about due. Its flower generally surprises – and positively delights – me. The dependable violets are good, valued no less for always blooming. And I have one begonia, now with a stem 18 inches long and still growing, that produces the happiest orange flowers. With any luck my window box of geraniums was moved indoors before the freeze decimated their colorful blooms. Indoors it should continue to produce flowers until I can once again release it to the great outdoors. The smelly fig continues to produce more fruit than I can eat (and positively refuses to die) while the pathetic lemon actually sported any number of white buds. And now has one fruit which I monitor carefully.

I cherish them all but wouldn’t mind a little culling.

Spring’s on our doorstep. Wouldn’t it be possible for me to turn over a new leaf (so to speak) and get rid of some of those old uninspiring leftovers?

If only I didn’t lack the heart.

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” appearing in 2014. Copies are available at the Cassadaga ShurFine and Papaya Arts on the Boardwalk in Dunkirk. Information on all the Musings, the books and the author may be found at Susancrossett.com.