Sometimes, when an amaryllis bulb has been deprived of water too long, it’ll bloom, but instead of having the stalk towering two to three feet high, it will barely grow, the plant concentrating on opening up its flower rather than how high in the air it can put it on display. The leaves, however, will grow to a normal length to gather strength in the bulb, so that maybe it can really put on a full show the year after.
The bulb I found last week shot the tip of its bud up immediately, as I said–and then held its breath and held still while the leaves played catchup. Now the five leaves and the bud are coming up in tandem; but if you look closely, the bud is already beginning to break open.
I can really relate to this one. I have a lot of limitations it would be nice not to have, because of health issues: even a few minutes in full sun right now makes my lupus start attacking my eyes. (I’m okay, don’t worry, I have more sense than to risk that one.) So, thank you very much, I’ll stay indoors–but for the things I really want to do, reaching out to others, writing, knitting, making people feel cared about the best I know how–there’s no limitation there at all. The things that are most important to me, I can do just fine (the church Memorial Day picnic at Foothill Park that I have to miss notwithstanding… If anyone sees a coyote or herd of deer this year, I hope they snap a picture for me. Keep an eye out for the mountain lions. And don’t let the preschoolers pick up a baby rattler near the creek this year, okay?) It even serves as a reminder that those are the things I want to do, and not to let the time just slip by.
The “bloom where you are planted” cliche works just fine for me.