Posted by peskypippi | Posted in Humor, Marriage, Relationships | Posted on 22-11-2013
My seven-year-old Christmas cactus is now in full bloom. Again. And it’s not because of me. Well it is and it isn’t.
The plant was a thank-you gift to me from one of the parents, for coaching my daughter’s soccer team many years ago. It was in full bloom then–and super tiny. And when the blooms stopped blooming, I was ready to recycle the plant.
Whoa! Yeah, not an option around here.
My husband repotted it. Tended to it. Fertilized it. Watered it. And waited. Golly, he’s so patient!
See, because my husband is Mr. Green Thumb. He is like Oskar Schindler to plants. Remember the movie Schindler’s List? One of the most powerful Holocaust movies I have ever seen. It’s about a German businessman who saved the lives of more than a thousand Polish-Jewish refugees during the Holocaust, by employing them in his factories. (And, swoon, Schindler was played by Liam Neeson.)
Me? I love trees. I love flowers. I just don’t like all of the caregiving and patience that plant life requires. I like immediate color and impact. (Just for the record, it’s a good thing I treat the children and animals around here with a lot more love and nurturing than I do plants.)
A 30-foot-tall Douglas fir tree proudly stands tall in the yard at our old home, a tree that was almost stomped to its death when it was a wee sapling…by me…because it looked sorta dead and scraggly.
Yikes! My bad! I’m a plant murderer!
But no worries, my husband saved that tree and nurtured it, until it thrived. And he likes to remind me about the tree that almost wasn’t.
And now, he regularly checks the yard debris bin in case I have tossed out a spindly perennial or skimpy rose bush that can be saved.