Orchids!

Hello, kids! How is it that for months you lay dormant, scrubby, blah—and then, open? I saw activity about a month ago in bleak January when it was cold but snowless, a little snow, always cold: There were brimming buds. Of hope, I thought. This is new, my heart said. Ah!

There is only so much I can do to beat back the blanket of depression that falls on me in weak light, dark mornings, early evenings, a day that never ripens but stays a leaden gray. I light candles, turn on my grow lights over the spider plant, eat comforting hot oatmeal, get a Netflix subscription. I plan a garden and reread my blog where I ride my bicycle . . . everywhere. For example, last year at this time I was dreaming about my upcoming Rhine River trip. 

Five hard little buds formed at the end of what appeared to be a dead stem. (I never know whether to trim them back or tack them up.) I did a bit of research. Orchids like cold nights and warmish days; they love sunlight but not direct light. So I trained my grow lights to cast a warm glow beside them and, of course, set my thermostat down at night. Perfect conditions for the buds to grow into marbles, green walnuts, tiny perched apples. And, I waited.

And waited.

This past week two of the nuts popped open and I have two little white faces staring at me. The arrangement of petals and colorful column and speckled lip remind me of eyes, a nose, actual lips. They are my children, come to visit for these winter weary months. Hello, kids!

winter snow outside