I'm sorry to say it, but this story revolves around what seems to be my custom these days. Late. Deadlines for work, I meet, but poetry workshop deadlines? Working at the last minute. Dinner? Honey, have a snack 'cause supper won't be done 'til late. Meeting me for coffee? Yep. Running late.
And I planted my amaryllis bulb late. It would be generous to assume I planted it before Christmas. Oh, what a sad little bulb it was, a brown lonely lump in its festive red pot. My mom & sister, clearly on their toes, planted theirs & had radiant blooms through the holidays.
I had a brown lump.
Until now. In an almost ostentatious display of chlorophyll, it has sprouted gangly green stalks, too tall for their own good. I had to tie them up to keep them from flopping over & breaking, staking them with an orphaned knitting needle. (I think it's a size 6, single pointed, for you knitters out there.)
Just in time for Valentine's Day (if you tend toward that hallmarkiest of holidays), I got me some lush, midwinter lovin...