Memoirous

My orchids bloomed at least once a year in Chicago—usually in March despite being situated on the inside of a courtyard window. Meaning: only direct sunlight mid-day. In Michigan they bloomed at my first apartment in Meridian Meadows. Since moving to the Tiny House=nada. This spring my daughter asked me why I continue to keep them if they weren’t doing anything. I’m so glad I didn’t give up on them! I did some necessary re-arranging; moving coat rack where the plant stand was and moving the plant stand by the French doors so that they could make use of the long afternoon sunlight. Besides my coats were beginning to breakdown and the colors fade from direct sunlight being by the door. It was a good move for these two reasons—to save the coats and help the plants. And, boy! The orchids immediately thanked me, by reviving. The orchid in the middle grew over 20 buds! Right now 4 have flowered. The rest are also sprouting new leaves and getting stronger. There is a life lesson her...

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 ...

My orchid recently blossomed. This is a rare occurrence (perhaps because there is little direct light since my window ledge faces the inside of a U-shaped courtyard. At 12 noon is the best chance for sunlight. When that’s available. The month of March was dreary, being mostly cloudy. James Schuyler and I have that in common. We both live in small rooms in former hotels in a big city. So, yeah, a bloomin’ orchid is reason to celebrate. This is my #2 installment in a flash series about the memoirs James Schuyler listed in his Diary (edited by Nathan Kernan). In July of 2017 I was on Great Spruce Head Island reading Diary entries from Schuyler—written on GSHI. On August 4, 1969 he was deep in the potting soil reading various gardening memoirs. Letters from an American Farmer , J. Hector St. John de Crevecoeur, a collection of essays describing rural life in America, first published in London 1782. Alpine Flower Garde n, Wm. Robinson. Poet and Landscape , Andrew Young, ...