Tags
Aging, Christmas Cactus, Everyday Life, In the Kitchen, Lent, Oklahoma Gardening, Soul Care, Story Telling, Writing
It’s a late bloomer, this Christmas Cactus of mine. But I can’t mind too awful much. I may be its downfall, for making its everyday life too sweet for a more timely blooming.
You see, only in December did I learn, when others were blooming and mine was not, that a Christmas Cactus sometimes requires a little taste of drought and darkness to bring it to its blooming senses. Mine had never suffered such harsh realities — no, it did not. Instead, it was a sunbathing fool, living it up next to my kitchen sink. Why, with all that abundant light and delicious water it received during its first year in its new home, my little cactus child must have sensed it would grow up fat and happy and live forever, without need of producing a single bloom… either to reproduce its own species … or share its own particular brand of beauty with the world…
Thank God, it’s never too late to learn important life lessons. And good it is, that everyday life seems ever ready to serve up just-in-time lessons: Live and learn; Learn and live. Yes, woe to me…if I don’t live and learn lessons from my little Lenten cactus. After going on a water and sunshine diet for most of January, my wilderness teacher offered up s single perfect bloom this week, all creamy white and long with a hot pink stamen.
Gorgeous in its solitude. Gorgeous for its solitude.
And by the looks of it, a lonely-only bloomer it may stay; a single short parable maybe all this late boomer will produce this month.
But I don’t mind. Even though it’s bloomin’ late, my single-bloom cactus leaves me with enough lessons to ponder this liturgical season.
an everyday life 
Oh, me. It’s a hard lesson to learn, but we’ve all learned it. Also, they’re not fond of drafts when they’ve set buds. More than once my bedroom plant has tossed every single bud onto the floor, and I didn’t know why. Now I do. The bud-tossing happens in the years I’ve had to turn on the heat instead of letting it sit around in a stable environment and do its thing.
Also: I keep two of mine outdoors, and they’re quite happy unless it’s going to be freezing. They’ll take down to 40 with no problem. In the summer, they thrive but don’t like hot, direct light.
And – this is going to kill you – once yours has stopped blooming, and the bloom has fallen off naturally, pinch that baby back. I know, I know. I’d take off a couple of leaves at least on each of those stems. We just had the great trimming of the indoor plants, and the outdoor are next. Don’t fertilize until it starts to grow again. I use a balanced granular.
Here’s what my bedroom cactus looked like this year . I had a white one that died – my others are red, pink and magenta.
Phew! You hit my one and only gardening spot! I can grow Christmas cactus to beat the band! I’m way too proud of them, but having killed everything up to and including native lantana, I guess I’m entitled.
Now – to your larger point… Helicopter parenting apparently doesn’t work, even cross-species. And of course – what seems to be privation often isn’t. Lilacs don’t make it down south, and dogwoods don’t thrive on the tundra. We’ve all got conditions we thrive in, and no matter how much “better” someone else’s conditions seem, they may not be right for us.
None of this is hypothetical for me. I just closed my weather underground blog site last night. I’m still stewing over it, just a bit, but it was the right thing to do. The conditions had changed, and I wasn’t growing. I never had thought of self-transplant before, but there you are. A new and wonderful metaphor from gardening!
Wow. Thanks for all your Christmas Cactus growing tips — I’d read about pinching back those spent blooming tips — and yes, I confess to cringing at even thinking along those lines. But if you say it works — and who, in their right mind, could argue with the results shown in your photo? — I’ll give it a go — when the times comes. Later this week, by looks of Mr. Bloom.
Wondering what the implications of you giving up your weather underground site will be — will it make life more spacious, giving you time to grow and pursue other writing dreams? It’s not easy to prune activities out of our lives — especially those that hold special meaning for us, like a first ‘this’ or ‘that.’ But when the change ends up so good for us, we wonder that it took us so long to let go!
Just beautiful… this solitary bloom. ‘Early’ or ‘late’, the key word is ‘bloom’. Thanks for sharing life lessons in the most mundane and ordinary, or not so ordinary. But little insights can be motivating still. Have a meaningful and rewarding Lenten hiatus, Janell.
Of course you’re right, Arti… to bloom is good… and it’s especially sweet after a long winter’s rest. In the midst of spring-cleaning my garden, I’ve already run across summer perennials in first bloom, who evidently possess that antsy ‘can’t wait’ attitude of young children.
I’ve purchased my copy of Proust, with hopes of joining you for your next read-along… if not write-along. Already, I’ve read so many lovely books this year… and I have a feeling this one may become the prize read…to top off a beautiful reading season.
So I’ll be with you, in the thick of it… And truly, I cannot imagine diving into those pages with a better reading companion than you.
Janell
You’re too kind, Janell. The pleasure is all mine. I’ll have a Proust read-along beginning post up in the next day or two, since some other readers have shown interests as well. Again, thanks for your constant support and encouragement! 😉
Oh, dear Arti, it is you (and not me) who offers constant support and encouragement to your readers.
Surely my absence here (and everywhere, in blog-landia).. speaks more eloquently and louder than any word I could put forth… as to my inconstancy… which is only one of my oh-so-human failings I’ve pondered over Lent.
Funny, how the others would soundly rebut anyone finding me “too kind.”
But… thank you for believing the best in me. Others believing us so, perhaps, more than anything, helps make us so.
Janell
It’s me again, trusting you’ve had a wonderful Easter. And hope you’re enjoying Spring and Proust. BTW, ignore all emails from artidkc[at]yahoo since my acct. has been phished this morning. I’ve since deleted the account altogether. My “Good” emails are with Gmail. Hope the spam didn’t give you too much trouble. Just delete the mail and not open it.
Hi Arti. We are enjoying springtime showers this week — so good for our thirsty earth and spring vegetables taking root in the garden.
Proust, so far, has proved part-joy and part-hardship — I’ve not made much headway in spite of being close to 100 pages in — there’s been so little story to carry me along, which means I’ve been mostly slogging through pages, sometimes drowning in beautiful prose. His passages about the church were especially meaningful, given the memory of Easter services last Sunday, which we celebrated in the old bones of a beautiful downtown Episcopal cathedral. But I press on, bit by bit…
Thanks for dropping in and warning be about the email… I deleted it, just as you said.
Janell