the power of serendipity

that lift we can recall

I can’t speak for those of you elsewhere but I think we have had a grand total of three sunny days in the past four weeks. Three. I wish we had had a lot of rain to replenish our annual averages but it hasn’t even been rainy. Instead, the Chesapeake region has been cloudy, cloudy again, and cloudy once more.

For the record, on 29 September it is, you guessed it, cloudy. Clouds are good but I guess I really enjoy the intensity of sunshine to raise my spirits every day.

I am still admiring the many plants likely will be gone by a month from now as winter makes its regular appearance. I noted to my husband while we were doing our Eastport Walkabout this morning that perhaps it’s now warm enough to grow beloved and colourful bougainvillea in this region but I got enough stickers the one time I tried cultivating them in Alexandria that I decided to surrender those to the professionals. Bougainvillea do dependably lift my spirits because of their intense color even if I am not big on the stickers which a pro will know how to overcome.

I did grow a boatload of potted plants this year, with amazing success considering my poverty of skills. Some people just know how to talk with the plants or something. My friend Janet just seems to need to think about a plant to get things to grow. I always enjoyed seeing her garden products on her desk when I wandered in many mornings; they were so pretty and I knew she had no trouble cultivating them. The incomparable Susan (a.k.a. the service dog whisperer) in Pennsylvania, not only grows row after row after row (no exaggeration) of vegetables but also has a deck with magazine-quality lay outs for her colorful plants. Those stellar pots, along with everything around their small pond, overwhelm me with calm whenever we are there during the growing season.

My aspirations are far more modest, partially because I have failed at seemingly easy attempts in the past (never a single tomato off plants in Alexandria year upon year) and we usually here for only a portion of the summer so I risk burdening someone to water for me.

I have learned to tone down my intuitive instincts so I devour the planting instructions. Sounds basic, I understand, but I am not a rules-based person in so many ways. I love to cook but actually doubt I have followed a recipe word for word in more than a decade (wait, I think I did once). I simply am too impatient or think my way would improve upon the outcome (winning some, losing others). This intuitive thing was perhaps the biggest annoyance in my tense relationship with my mother as she could not understand how I became whatever age without having taken home ec where they would drill into me that I had to follow the directions exactly. No, I don’t have to do that (nor did I always produce the same dishes she did).

But I have learned that I can’t plant a columbine in the front facing the afternoon heat but the catmint, snapdragons and petunias thrive. Pretty standard stuff for those who garden but this is a new interest for me.

I put out some lettuces, rosemary, basil, petunias, hot peppers, catnip, morning glories, gladiolus, and a rose bush on the balcony; oh, and my annual fuchia basket in a feeble attempt to attract hummingbirds or butterflies. The lettuce grew extremely well but I got turned off when I accidentally carried in a small, greenish snailish looking thing on my dress after I had been working with it one afternoon earlier in the summer. Minor fact but I couldn’t quite get past it to eat the lettuce, no matter how well I washed it. The rosemary thinned a bit to my surprise while the lavender seems to be on life support. The petunias, cat mint, and morning glory still look pretty healthy, although not as bright as earlier. The glads were a bust but perhaps they will come back.

I managed to resuscitate the rose bush in early July when I realized it was dying. Again, turns out that this instruction thing matters. Once I both fertilized it and sprayed with bug stuff, along with watering, it looks quite healthy. Score one for the intuitive gardener-turned-learner.

But, Friday was one of those joys that makes life go round. I planted the fuchias this year and last because the pre-planted baskets are outrageously expensive. I then managed to almost lose them (ok, I thought they were goners to be honest) when we had such a baking July and early August. Upon returning in early September, I just kept throwing water in the unlikely event they might be dormant because of the heat.

It was a satisfying realization a fortnight ago that they are fine. I am not getting scads of those delicate fuchia flowers with enduring color with more buds still in progress.

What I found Friday, however, was utterly surprising. I noticed this long stem coming out of that fuchia basket with a completely different leaf pattern. I whipped out my phone to figure out what it was. To my utter delight and confusion, it is a tomato plant.

Wait, a tomato plant. No, tomatoes but who in the world cares?

So, it must have been a bird moving between plants. I mean, how cool is that?

I have seen a hummingbird two different times, roughly a five weeks apart. But, each appearance was fleeting, as you would expect from a creature that just reverberates rather than move slowly for a long time. As quickly as he moved, I doubt it was carrying any tomato clippings.

We have had a wasp show up repeatedly but it wasn’t carrying anything (merely menacing me or Harry Truman when outside). My husband sealed him into a spot with caulk after we last saw it several weeks ago but it could have been him.

Something moved the plant up to this basket. The tomato plant is such a shock. And such an absolute delight.

I cannot get past the fascination resulting from the serendipity of this discovery. I am awed by the awe, in other words. And I keep re-enjoying that awe because I am looking for something different, uplifting, and unexpected..

Is all of this beyond mundane? Of course but it was the discovery something so unexpected that showed how something so out of my control could create a gem.

You are probably asking why on earth this matters? In this era, where hate, negativity, fear, doubt, and anxiety permeate too many conversations and virtually every piece of news to the point these downers are almost inescapable so something new, confounding, and delicate so appeals.

The serendipity of something so small yet so unexpected startling moves the mind to other possibilities. This breaks the negativity to open the mind to other thoughts, queries, and assumptions.

What have you had happen with similar simplicity and appreciation? Have you thought about that recently? Doesn’t it bring you calm or delight? Please share it to we can exchange ideas.

Thank you for reading Actions today or any day. Please feel free to circulate to others.

It is cloudy, as I said earlier, but the flowers are still coming.

Have a good week. Be well and be safe. FIN