Bring the Sky Inside

It's November's last day, but I still have a bit of summer in my kitchen. 

When my stubborn, spoiled morning glory vines wouldn't bloom, 

I searched for answers. 

One helpful gardener noted that she cut almost-blooming 

vines to bring indoors. Contained in a vase and 

positioned in a sunny window--they bloomed.

Of course, I had to try this. 

  From my pile of Heavenly Blue vines, I trimmed a long tangle

covered with buds still tight and tiny. They fit easily in a 

glass vase and hung happily from a cup hook in the window sill. 

In no time at all, pointed swirls of bloom emerged and finally opened. 

Every morning, newly vibrant blooms greet me. 

It's been the highlight of a fairly dismal gardening season.

The Heavenly Blues are almost finished now. 

It's time for Christmas colors to take center stage.

 

Bleak January

Bleak January is one of the best parts of the year. 

After the often-clamorous Christmas season ended, the first month of 2019 

had a solemn, spare beauty that I truly enjoyed. 

Our small acre has no single hint of green—

in fact, it's been dusted in white all month.

Except in my windowsill. That's where the action is.

For less than the cost of a hot coconut milk mocha macchiato, I'm enjoying just 

enough spring to hold me over until the real thing arrives. 

Thank you, Aldi.

The packaging on this, the LAST amaryllis bulb in the store, just said

"amaryllis bulb."

yawn

But, friends, I know it must be a Red Lion Amaryllis, even though I haven't 

seen its face yet. I'll let you know what it turns out to be.

Those tiny leaf blades just peeking out prove that this one has barely begun its work.

Clearance hyacinth bulbs in glass vases were already messy looking with flopping, 

heavy blooms. I chose the best one and pinched off the frowzy 

blooms in the paper goods aisle because two new bud stems were 

already emerging. An observant fellow shopper took the time to point 

out that the bulb I'd chosen had broken blooms. 

Wasn't that kind? 

She did look shocked to hear I was the one who'd done it. 

Isn't it a wonder that the tissue-like paper on the bulb matches the bloom? 

In Kentucky, February brings hints of true spring. Glimpses of green 

will soon dazzle now that austere January is over for another year. 

I believe it's the same change of seasons referred to in 

that great song of songs—

"Behold, the winter is past ... "

January Faith

Paperwhites bulbs are so plain in their little nylon sack, 

quietly brown in the fluorescent lights of any big-box store. 

It takes a January kind of faith to plant 

and water something that looks so dead.

But when life begins to stir ...

... the reward is very, very great.

In view of the astonishing results, the preparation efforts seem small.

The paperwhite lesson is one to carry through 2018 and on.

What promises from the scriptures are you tending with hope, 

although they look dead and lifeless right now?

I'm tending these.

Would you share yours?

Windowsill Victories

I need something to grow—especially in January.

These eyes of mine  need  to watch the slow greening of a bulb and 

the little-by-little, day-by-day emergence of life. 

And when those roots power down, even enough to lift the unsuspecting bulb 

up and out of the soil ... somehow a tiny bit of the victory belongs to me too.

My kitchen window is populated with post-holiday, clearance bulbs  

—amaryllis and paperwhites—

each coming to life at the appropriate time and at the perfect pace.

I'll keep you posted on the small victories occurring in my kitchen window.

Are you growing anything in the bleakness of January?

Send a photo and share the joy!