The Basil Plant

As mentioned in my previous post, the seasons are changing and some of my favorite things will go away till Spring. I’ve killed two Basil plants this year, but that didn’t deter me from buying one more. I’m not quite ready to let go and not make pesto.

Almost every market I’ve walked into has them in stock. One store had so many basil plants, they were on display like Poinsettias at Christmas. Why not buy one more Barb?

I told myself I’d bring one home, and if it was still alive after a week, I’d repot it into a larger container. The plastic container it was sold in has three holes in the bottom for drainage. I wanted to sit it in the kitchen window to receive some light, but I learned early on that wood and water don’t mix. The window sill is wood, so I found this little dish to sit under it.

Home from the market.

I sat it in that little dish up in the kitchen window for a week and it’s still alive. I thought it couldn’t hurt to sit it in love, love, love.

Here is what I’ve learned from the basil plant.

🤍 Don’t water it at night. Even though it’s more convenient to water it before bed, it doesn’t like sitting in damp darkness.

🤍 Just let it be. I see it first thing in the morning as I walk into the kitchen and it’s still alive! I realize it’s almost out of season and it’s slow growing, but at least it hasn’t died and that’s rewarding.

🤍 It reminds me to be kind always. It looks rather fragile and my persona shifts when I see it. It has new growth, but should be nervous for the day I plop the food processor on the counter.

10 days later. It hasn’t grown much, but it’s alive.

Maybe it just knows to move at a slower pace and enjoy where it is. Plants are a lot like humans, and we can learn from them, as this little plant reminds me to be kind and relax my mind.

The photo reveals I repotted it, slid the love, love, love dish underneath and sat it on the window sill. We would all be content sitting in a dish of repeated love, just like the basil plant.

Let It Bloom

It’s been a life-long love affair with the Hydrangea, but the seasons are changing and it’s going away until Spring. This morning I noticed myself having a bit of trouble letting it go.

My daughter and I were out shopping this week. When I disappeared from view, she knew where to find me. We were near the flower department and there I was staring at the massive bouquet of multicolored Hydrangea. We carried it to the checkout, and when she beeped the bouquet and saw the price, she gave me a surprised look, or maybe it was shock.

I knew better than to meet her gaze and looked away thinking, you only live once. We came home and put them in water.

This morning I walked by the coffee table where they sit. Some of them had drooped overnight, so I grabbed the vase and took it into the kitchen. I laid them out on the cutting board, grabbed a sharp knife and sliced a good chunk of the ends off each stem. I chose a different vase, filled it with cool water and placed them in. They looked pretty sad, but I remained hopeful.

Looking out the window, I saw my neighbors outside, so took a walk around the block for a short visit. There’s nothing like listening to a toddler talk about life. When I returned home, the Hydrangeas were perking up and struggling their best. As I write, all are standing tall and looking refreshed, except for one.

We have a fear of loss and try and fix things to make them last longer. As I saw this one stem not revive itself I thought, well, I can always buy more, but then stopped that thought. It shouldn’t be that easy to replace. I’m just going to let them bloom, stay as long as they wish and move into a new season.

Seasons are temporary and I look forward to seeing the Hydrangea in the spring. Until then, I can have peace in knowing I didn’t try to make it stay. All I did was let it bloom.

A Full Bloom

I’m reading Stephanie’s book, “An Accidental Awakening.”, and it’s food for my soul. There’s a part in it I read yesterday that felt as if she was talking straight to me. What she describes has happened to me too, but I’ve fallen away from taking heed.

It happened again this morning.

The first time you wake up is when you need to get up. When your body is fully rested, it naturally wakes up. There’s a reason it wants you to get out of bed, but I normally just roll over in hopes for a few more minutes of shuteye.

This morning, the first time I woke up was 5:50 am. What I’d read in Stephanie’s book crossed my mind, but I didn’t get out of bed. I had an early haircut appointment and just wanted a little more sleep.

Now, I’m just flat out curious as to what the early morning wants to show me.

I’m ready for the warm months of Texas, so today’s haircut was mostly shave, and some cut. Top long and the rest shaved. Once complete, my stylist rinsed off the excess hair. The shampoo she used piqued my senses, and I told her, “That smells good.” She handed me a new bottle of shampoo and said, “This smell good too.”

I brought the shampoo home and sat it in the shower alongside the Waterpik!

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Bloom

Of course, it’s named Bloom.

I’ve written about the bloom, and one post in particular was posted almost exactly one year ago entitled, Ready to Bloom. Words are like seeds and I’ve done a lot of sowing.

It’s that time of year when my heart begins leaning toward the sun preparing to bloom. The seeds sown last year will bloom this year, and I’m anticipating a full bloom.

When It’s Time

We learn from our surroundings.

A couple of weeks ago, I saw this hibiscus plant at the market. The price was marked way down because it’s at the end of it’s season. It looked so healthy and full of buds that I had to bring it home. It would be the last of the blooms.

The hibiscus displays one bloom a day.

It opens up to reveal it’s beauty all the way to the core and then politely closes at the end of the day. Even closed it’s beautiful, but it knows when it’s done. It doesn’t try to stay in bloom.

hibiscus
Can you see the closed bloom to the left?

 

I feel as if I’ve bloomed quite a bit this year and maybe that’s why I’m embracing the change in season. I’m ready to not bloom for a while. To take a season of rest.

Not everything I planted in the yard this year bloomed. The cannas and trumpet vine along the fence bloomed once, but they’re happily growing. So maybe that’s it. We have to grow before we can bloom. We have to be fully ready to bloom.

We will bloom, when it’s time.

Happy day Beautiful Souls.

In Human Form

As I sit here, eating the last of the candy corn, I’m noticing the change in season. Candy corn will not be available in stores until next October. I don’t hunt it down and hoard it, but enjoy it while it’s in season.

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Now is the last bloom of the season for my trusty Bougainvillea. This plant has been a teacher. Being tempted many times to give up on it and circumstances, it showed me with the proper watering and food, it will be spectacular. Throw in time and patience and beauty abounds. When it has everything it needs and the timing is just right, every branch blooms.

Soon, I will cut it back and tuck it away in the barn for a season of rest. I learned from last year, to cut it back more. Last summer was it’s first full blooming season, and I was leery of cutting it too much last fall. It’s getting cut way back this year, so I can get it out of the hanging basket. Maybe next year I’ll plant it firmly in the ground so that it can take root.

My initial reaction to the thought of planting it in the ground was to make sure I was going to be in this same house. To be able to enjoy it, I would need to be here, but it’s not always about me. This time, it’s what is best for this faithful plant. God moves swiftly in my life, so He will let me know where I am to be. The lease is up April 3rd, right before planting time.

When we are ready, the teacher will appear and it is not always in human form.