“I was thinking we could plant some flowers for Reece, whatdya think?”
“Yeah, white flowers, because angels are white,” said my oldest son.
“OK, you got it.”
I planted a white clematis, which when planted in a good spot, should burst into bloom every spring. I bought a trellis to support it and knew it would have a prominent spot next to our front door. I had grown a pink clematis at our previous house and it was always the talk of the neighbors. I was hoping for a repeat show-stopper with a little attention and occasional watering.
Then I painted a rock (Both boys painted one, too.) We have plenty of rocks for garden accents. Want some? Yikes. The. Rocks. Then I remembered the red tulips.
In case you missed that previous post, here is a quick recap. These tulips grew back in our Omaha garden after a serious tilling session. As I waited patiently in the bathroom on a pregnancy test, I stared out the window at these red flowers that beat the odds and were intensely beautiful. Minutes later, my test came back positive. Failed tilling, failed vasectomy, red flowers, double red lines. Ok, all caught up on that analogy. Whew.
So. Reece and I have this red tulip thing. This spring has been full of surprises as it is the first spring in this house and there are secrets that bloomed and died back before we got to see them. One of those surprises this spring was, yes, you guessed it. Red tulips. I’ll take that as small sign of love from my angel baby. They needed relocating to pretty much anywhere else. They were buried deep. I dug a long time and if I hadn’t captured a photo and marked their location, I never would have found them.
Once done digging, I slowly back filled the holes. Then, I sat with the tiny bulbs for a minute and had a cry in the front yard.
Why? Why couldn’t my red tulip baby that came as a surprise still be living? He barged in on us and we rearranged for him, and then he left us here in this house with this van. And here I am digging in flowers instead of nursing him or wearing him to the park.
My head swirled a minute until I focused on the bulbs. Brown and shiny. But no sign of life. No roots, no leaves. Dormant and waiting to bloom.
I planted them around the base of our white angel flowers.
Next spring, the dormancy will break and new growth will emerge.