Shelter in Place, San Francisco, September 18, 2020
This is another story of a flower out of season. Yesterday, as I admired the dainty blossoms on the Velvet Elvis (Day 180), I spotted from the corner of my eye what appeared to be a bud on the azalea down below. The plant itself has been nearly buried this year by the showier hydrangea above it, and by the wild geranium ever creeping towards its roots. In spite of this encroachment, the azalea managed its normal March/April spray of candy-colored blooms well before the hydrangea had filled out. But nearly buried in the shadows now, had it managed to bloom again so out of season? I couldn’t believe my eyes.
With camera in hand, I checked again and sure enough, a single, sweet azalea flower has, this morning, opened up. What’s going on? Has the world gone so topsy turvy that even the garden has lost track of time? Have the strange, dark fire days confused its natural cycles? Is this bright pink flower before me a good omen or a bad, blooming out of season as it has? Is it a sign of hope and optimism or borne of fear the plant may not ever have another chance to bloom? I can relate. I no longer know what day it is, which way is up or down, or what path will take me forward. But just for now - however much we both may be confused - I’ll enjoy the azalea’s cheerful petals reaching for the sun.
Day 180: Counting on Whimsey
Shelter in Place, San Francisco, September 17, 2020
This little orchid-like flower grows on a plant called, surprisingly enough, "Velvet Elvis" (Plectranthus), and it blooms just when most of the garden is pretty well spent. Like most of the pretty things in California, the genus comes from somewhere else but tolerates this climate as long as it gets a little water through the dry spells. I’m guessing the name comes from the soft (almost hairy), dark leaves which do, indeed, remind me of those Elvis paintings you used to see for sale on the side of the road. I like the whimsey of both the name and the delicate flower and I welcome the smile they brought to me today.
Whimsey generally seems an uphill slog after so many weeks of quarantine. Today a friend shared an article by a science journalist that explains just why it is that we cannot sustain our “surge capacity” to cope with the waves of disaster and pain this year has so far thrown our way. It isn’t just you. It isn’t just me. We’ve all depleted our emotional reserves. But wait, we have to cope with what is yet to come… we have to make it through the fall. Oh, lord, I hope that Elvis’s blossoms are kind enough to stick around!
https://elemental.medium.com/your-surge-capacity-is-depleted-it-s-why-you-feel-awful-de285d542f4c
Day 177: Out of Whack
Shelter inPlace, San Francisco, September 14, 2020
The appearance of these young artichokes so out of season throws me for a loop. So does their optimism - growing a little higher and bigger every day as if they have every right to be here and to flourish. I checked my garden diary and this particular artichoke - the only one we have - has always borne fruit in the spring, adding its bright purple thistle flowers to the riot of color that is May. Not now, not in September when all its neighbors are barely making it, just waiting for the rain. It all feels so out of whack.
My young grandsons are top of mind today, so far away and struggling to have a normal life, a so-called normal year of school. This is the beginning of their second virtual week and though the school calendar start was the same as every other year, all else about this one is different, out of whack. I cannot imagine what they’re going through, the social and academic life they're missing. Yet I trust their smarts and their resilience. They have the right and capability to flourish. They will adjust. But oh, if it were in my power to grant, I’d give them back their childhood and, with their parents, watch them safely off to school.