by jphilo | Oct 29, 2012 | Daily Life
This weekend, a bully got busted at our house. The discovery, bad enough to begin with, grew worse and worse as the details unfolded. It turned out that the formerly struggling vinca vine, which has been sharing space with the thriving ivy geranium inherited from Mom years ago, showed no mercy to it’s pot-mate once the vinca finally regained it’s strength this summer.
To make matters worse, it took me months to catch on to what was happening. I’m ashamed to say I didn’t notice the vinca vine was bullying the geranium, making it give up it’s lunch day after day all summer and into fall. The situation finally came to light when I took the flower pot indoors earlier this month. In past years, the geranium hadn’t lost so much as a leaf when moved inside. A few days after this year’s relocation, and it barely had a leaf left.
So on Saturday, some repotting was in order. A few minutes of digging in the dirt, and the bully was exposed. The vinca vine root system had invaded every inch of dirt of the pot they shared. Some serious pulling, and even a little hacking, were required to release the geranium from the vinca’s rooty grip before both plants could be settled in their new home.
Now, you may be wondering why both plants live in the same pot once again. You’re thinking the two needed to be separated so the vinca vine won’t pick up right where it left off. But truth be told, I’m running out of both flower pots and sunny places to set them, so this is the best I could do.
Rest assured, I’ll be watching the vinca vine like a hawk. At the first intimation that it’s stealing lunches again, it’ll get planted in an ice cream bucket and moved to isolation. Hopefully, things won’t come to that. Because all winter long, I’ll model compassion, true friendship, and how to establish and maintain good boundaries to the vinca and the ivy geranium. I think that’ll do the trick, don’t you?
by jphilo | Jul 13, 2012 | Daily Life
A hanging flower pot, overflowing with a geranium and vinca vine, blushes pink whenever visitors arrive at our kitchen door. The plants are vigorous and lovely, a stunning display of color and creation.
But the vinca vine was not always so healthy.
Both the geranium (not the heritage geranium mentioned before on this blog) and the vinca vine were refugees, rescued from Mom’s house in the fall of 2008 when she gave up housekeeping. “Would you take this to your house?” Mom asked, handing me the flower pot. The geranium looked fairly healthy, but the vinca vine was one straggly, droopy sprout. She pointed to it and explained, “It got too big, so I tore it down. Take good care of it, and give it time.”
“It’ll come back,” she said.
I wasn’t so sure. After a winter of pampering, the vine still looked sickly. In the spring, I repotted it and the geranium in fresh soil and watered it religiously all summer. The geranium loved the attention, but the vinca vine paid me no mind. By the end of the summer, it looked as sickly and straggly as ever.
Over the next three years, it didn’t come back.
The plants were pampered all winter, repotted each spring, watered and fussed over all summer. The geranium bloomed madly, but the vinca remained straggly, sickly, droopy, ugly. This past winter, the long vinca vines dried up, and a couple new sprouts shot up from the roots. Frustrated, I whacked off the dried vines with a scissor. Then I gathered the brown leaves and stems and muttered, “This is your last chance,” to the silent, sickly, straggly vine.
Over the next month, it came back.
Every week, more new shoots sprouted. Once repotted in new soil and outdoors for the summer, it went crazy. Sprouting. Leafing. Vining. Cascading. Giving the blooming geranium a run for it’s money. Despite this summer’s heat. Despite the worst drought since 1988. This hot, dry summer, my mother’s promise came true.
It came back.
Each time I water it, each time it catches my eye, each time visitors comment on the lovely pot, each time I picture the straggly, sickly sprout she gave me, her confident words ring in my ears.
“It’ll come back.”
I look at the vine and think of all that’s happened in our lives since the vine came to our house in 2008. It is a constant reminder of a hard-learned truth. Like a husband’s restored health after a long convalescence, like a prodigal son come home after years far away, like a non-expressive parent finally able to express emotion thanks to a cruel disease, like high school friendships renewed after a long hiatus, like the promise of eternity in the presence of a loving God, the best things in life are worth the time, the patience, the prayers, the undying hope, and the love required until…
They do come back.
