Back in the early ’80s, I was living in a 20-foot diameter yurt in Jackson Hole, Wyoming, directly across from the Tetons. As you can imagine, it was extremely cold in the winters there, could fall as low as -40° F. But this one winter, I was obsessed. It felt like I was instructed to keep one living rose in my yurt all winter long. That meant I had to keep the fire going, all day and all night. Couldn’t leave for too long, lest it die down, the yurt cool off and the rose die.
I lived in a community of yurts. Within a week or so, all ten yurts were keeping a single rose blooming inside all winter long.
Why was I so obsessed? I thought it was because the Cold War had heated up to such an extent that nuclear war loomed closer and closer. Some years later, a former husband told me that I was right about that winter, that it apparently was the most dangerous on record so far.
In other words, when things get craziest, do the opposite. Always, dynamically balance the opposites.
So this winter, I am again obsessed. I didn’t realize it at first, but now I do. . . .
It started out three days ago, with a trip to a nearby hardware store to get some fire starter. . .
Noticed that they were selling amaryllis kits. Cool!
I bought one for myself. Here’s how it’s shown on the box that contains bulb, soil, container and underplate. Inviting!
Then I went and did another errand elsewhere, and thought, gee, I should get one for the second house (in greenacresvillage.org).
So I went back to the hardware store.
When I got home, it wasn’t long before I realized I had to take my amaryllis to son Colin, to cheer him up for the winter in his bed at Majestic Care. So I did that. He loved his amaryllis immediately, named it Cordelius.
Came back home, and went to the hardware store again, this time with the same clerk laughing as I marched in the door. I had to replace my amaryllis!
Did that. Brought it home.
Then, oh damn, I need to get one for the family across the street. It will fascinate the boys as it grows.
Okay, one more trip. By now, the clerk and I were both laughing like hyenas as I marched into the store for the fourth time.
Okay, so now I have personally planted four amaryllis bulbs, all of them bursting open, already. All to help the world flourish during the darkest winter hours, when “nuclear war” again threatens, by the minute, to blow us all up.
Colin called last night: “Mom, my amaryllis is still white. Do you think that’s because it hasn’t had any sun, it’s been so cloudy out?” I didn’t know, but having abiding faith in amaryllis, I told him not to worry, that it knows what it’s doing.
I knew it knew what it was doing, because 20 years ago, when I was a new widow and just finding my feet in Bloomington Indiana, I bought an amaryllis and painted it as it grew. Here’s the bud, one of six paintings.
Okay. Here’s Cordelius this morning. Immediately, upon awakening, Colin noticed he had changed color to green! And the sun was’t even up yet.
My obsession with certain plants as talismen of goodness, trust, faith and love started when I was a kid, already terrified by the prospect of nuclear war.
