plenty | reverse threading

there were multiple times – when my sweet momma was here on this earth – that i brought her yellow roses. they were something special between us – an expression of love between mother and daughter.

yellow roses have a different significance than red. they are indicative of friendship, the deep bonds of love, warmth and joy, fresh starts, gratitude, hope. i read that in japan yellow roses symbolize courage and inner strength.

months ago, a dear friend gave me a small mini yellow rose plant, likely purchased at the floral section of a grocery store. it had several miniature yellow roses blooming and several buds in the waiting when i received it and i figured that it – like other more temperamental plants – would run its course.

it is months later. and the yellow rose is still in its original pot. it appears to love its residence next to the old garden table, on the deck, sharing a bit of space with the basil. it has flourished – bud after bud, bloom after bloom. it has embraced life beyond our expectation. even now, with its leaf-nod to the approaching fall, it has three buds – three bursts of beauty in the offing.

and, every day i look at it i think of my sweet momma. and i wonder about how this particular plant has been so resilient. i wonder if it had a littlebitta help from her.

i wonder if this plenty – this profusion of buds and blooms are tiny messages from her – sent in love, delivering bravery and perseverance. they are certainly well-timed.

and – if my sweet momma is the one whose green thumb from some other plane of existence has helped along this little plant aspiring to burst past what’s expected, to burst past little-life – i remember she is the same woman who wrote: don’t underestimate me…

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this NOT-SO-FLAWED WEDNESDAY

like. subscribe. share. support. comment. – thank you. xoxo

buymeacoffee is a website where you may directly support an artist whose work directly impacts you.

“it’s impossible to be lonely

when you’re zesting an orange.

scrape the soft rind once

and the whole room

fills with fruit.

look around: you have

more than enough.

always have.

you just didn’t notice

until now.”

(abundance – amy schmidt)

and the daisy turned skyward – cup-full. and as i passed, it reminded me of abundance and plenty.

for the measure of both abundance and plenty is not rigid. it is variable. my plenty is different than yours. and different expectations apply to abundance. it does not serve me well to gauge mine – my plenty, my abundance – by your standards. no, that comparison is not right. there are similarities. there are dissimilarities.

instead, i’ll look at the daisycup. i’ll set my face to the sun. i’ll count the times the dogga runs around the pond. i’ll gaze at the pussywillows on the white bathroom windowsill. i’ll savor the creak of old floors under my bare feet. i’ll tighten the back screen door handle. i’ll watch the house finches dine on grape jelly. i’ll feel his hand wrapped around mine.

we’ll go look for turtles from the bridge. we’ll clink glasses on the deck. we’ll listen to the wind in the chimes. we’ll paint rocks, write words and create big pots of soup. we’ll walk in sync on the sidewalk. we’ll make leftovers and serve them with happy napkins. we’ll relish time with family, with friends. we’ll make plans; we’ll revise plans. we’ll kiss goodnight.

because – when i notice – my daisycup is full.

with plenty.

abundance.

*****