It’s a stormy rainy day. We need the wet. We need the excuse to stay indoors for a change. Nice and cozy. I haven’t ventured into the garden today but a flower found me anyways.
I’ve never had much luck with Orchids. They bloom sensuous and sinewy, tempting you from the florist’s window, but then you see the price and yikes! Plus, when they’re done- they’re done. At least in my world. However, (and against my better judgement) I purchased three sexy ladies to add an ‘oh so sophisticated’ touch to a drab corner for a party we had in December. The next day I moved them to the south-facing outdoor covered porch, placed an ice cube in each mossy top coat (once in a while), but otherwise, forgot about them.
Making the bed this morning I caught a glimpse through the window of a wildly speckled shoulder, a swelling bud, a long slender neck (I remember those days). My orchids were blooming! I slipped outside to rescue them from the storm. They smiled back, and said, “all was well”.
What’s a storm, or two, when you consider the secret to re-blooming an orchid: neglect, and a little thunder.