Oh, those compelling photos of the “Before” and “After” scenarios …
You know the ones:
The skinny guy who started working out and now is a buff, body-builder type.
The plain Jane lady who gets a make-over and is now lovely and confident.
The dilapidated house that is now a showplace.
The yard that was an overgrown jungle that is now beautifully landscaped.
And so on.
My photos are not quite as spectacular, but they’re making me smile.
I’ve mentioned the Caladiums, and how I planted the tubers too early and guys at a nursery (when I said I’d put them in the ground in mid-March) told me that they were most likely dead. But, then a couple of weeks later, one came up. Then, a week or so later, another one came up. I knew I had planted 15 tubers, so when there were 15 Caladiums, I thought that was it. That was not it. Apparently, one tuber can make quite a few Caladiums. I’ve been amazed and delighted and overwhelmed. When I counted this morning, there were almost 50 Caladiums. And, there are more little shoots.
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- Here’s that first little Caladium.
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- Then this one came up.
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- Day by day, there were more and more.
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- And more.
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- Multiple shoots came up from each tuber.
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- Then, this little non-leaf looking thing popped up.
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- It got larger and larger.
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- I guessed it was a flower
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- They are rather strange-looking, and they don’t last very long.
(This from the Gardening Know How website: Blooming on caladium plants isn’t common, but tubers planted in favorable locations tend to produce small flowers. These inflorescences aren’t as impactful as a rose or dahlia but have their own charm and, sometimes, a strong pleasant scent. There are several schools of thought on what to do with caladium flowers. While some growers believe pinching them off helps force energy to the tubers, others leave the small blooms with no ill effect on the plant.)
They certainly don’t detract from the lovely leaves.
The whole Caladium experience has been worth the effort on that drizzly March day when I was slogging in that muddy space, trying to get those tubers in the ground in a sensible, well-planned effort that ended up with my strewing the things around and trying to get them covered with dirt (more like mud).
It’s turned out so much better than I thought it might (especially after the nursery guy told me they were all probably dead!
Meanwhile, there was the issue of that log I ran over a few weeks ago. Here’s a recap of the photos:
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- Here’s the log. The tow truck has hoisted up the car.
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- You can see the streak that the log (stuck under the car) made when I drove into a parking lot.
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- After a friend read about the incident, she suggested I bring the log to her husband who is a woodworker.
My friend came by one day last week, for a six-feet-away visit on my front porch. And she brought me …
this beautiful candle holder. Yes, indeed, that is the log–the log in the photo above.
And the woodworker included, on the base of the candle holder, something to remind us of its provenance. (The log was a piece of hackberry, in case you’re confused.)
I looked for a descriptive word for my experiences. “Catastrophe” is how I felt about them, but, really, that’s too strong. I went to “Thesaurus.com” and found the word “debacle,” which I like, but again, seems wrong. I’m going with the phrase “bad luck,” because it seems more reasonable. Not a catastrophe, or even a debacle. They were small things, in contrast to the larger, more egregious things that happen to other folks.
Let the sunrise of your love end our dark night. Break through our clouded dawn again! Only you can satisfy our hearts, filling us with songs of joy to the end of our days.
Psalm 90:14 (The Passion Translation)
I am the company that is currently visiting (which she mentioned in her alert email) and I can testify that the candle stick is very impressive and worth every dollar she spent on it 🙂