It's pretty freaky how things tend to reappear out of the blue. About 4 and half years ago I had to undergo a brutal week of antibiotics from a killer middle-ear-infection and missed 7 days worth of 9th grade physics (no regrets there!) I wasn't exactly bed-ridden, but I was extremely weakened by the antibiotics and could only do light activities in between my near-fainting spells. It was only the second time I'd ever taken antibiotics, and they totally knocked me out. So I spent my days snoozing, drinking lots of water, trying to catch up on my missed days of thermodynamics (ugh), lots of journaling and gazing into the brackish water, studying the crabs and eels, and a bit of gardening. I remember feebly climbing onto the kitchen counter, standing up there with shaky legs and browsing the cupboards for hidden (or forgotten) packets of seeds. I found an envelope of nearly-expired morning glories and wasted no time in getting them planted. Ten little sprouts appeared in the wicker basket I had planted them in, a few days later. They held the strength that I so badly needed to regain. It was pretty cool, watching those little plants grow stronger and send their vines embracing whatever they could grab. The purple, lamp-shade shaped flowers went to seed, and eventually the plants died or got pulled out. I don't remember-- I left to visit my friend in the Bay that summer (a few months after planting them) and my garden was left alone.
Yesterday I retrieved the dropped leaves of the avocado trees that I'd also planted in 9th grade, and noticed, to my utter surprise, two little morning glory plants,
right in the spot where I'd planted them four and a half years ago. I was totally shocked. I didn't really know what to do-- jump, dance, point, call and tell somebody? No, nobody remembers that I planted morning glories in 9th grade. My parents were workaholics back then. My sister would just smirk at my enthusiasm, or raise one of her speaks "your-embarrassing-me" eyebrows and call me crazy for caring (gotta love 13-year olds). So I just smiled, marveled and tried to take some photos. Somehow those seeds have been dormant, chilling in the soil all these years and decided to surprise me. What kind of crazy, resilient power do those plants possess? Ok, I don't think morning glories are
that cool. I mean, they're pretty purple bells, whose vines take over the rest of the vegetation around them. So they're actually kind of asshole plants, attack and devour everything else. But I love their purple colors, their hard tetrahedron-shaped seeds and the fact that they can pop up like that. Wow...
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| Morning Glory |
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| Papa Avocado |
Looking back though, I remember thinking that I had a green thumb. I loved 9th grade gardening. I planted an Ohai Ali'i tree from a bean I'd stolen out of a neighbor's pod, and brought it to my teacher, like a second grader, bringing an apple. Four avocado trees and a papaya tree have risen in my teensy yard from my casual seed-tossing back then. And the largest one is leveling with the roof of my house! A mini-rose plant we once got as a gift became three still-today-blossoming rose bushes, and fragrant ones too. I don't know how it happens. Our neighbors can't so much as keep their grass alive, and our garden seems to explode with life force. That's no fertilizers pesticides and lots of love for you...
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| The original rose wasn't even red! |
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Buds
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| Tonight's incredible sunset |
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