There are a couple of hibiscus plants here which are so old they are more like potted
trees with strong trunks, rather than tender plants. I don't recall exactly when they were
acquired, but I am guessing it must have been about forty years ago. They are more than
just hardy, they are true survivors, because they have suffered much neglect over the
years. It seems like I am always too preoccupied with multiple other things, to give them
the kind of proper watering and feeding they would need to flourish. And yet I don't
discard them, despite the fact that it has become more and more of a struggle for me to
carry them outside every summer. I'm not sure how much longer I'm going to be able
to continue the yearly moves.
The double-flowered blossom shown here, is from the plant which produces variegated
peach-toned flowers with red-violet centers. It has been continuing to bloom this winter,
even though I had to cut it back very severely last fall, before I brought it back inside.
A simple thing like a blossom, with its miracle of design and color, can sometimes help
to lessen the gloom of winter, and take one's mind off of all the regressive, political turmoil
going on in the nation and the world now.
Perhaps that is why I continue to keep the hibiscus. The blossoms are a reminder that
I am still alive, with things to accomplish, and things to enjoy. Like the character George
Bailey, in Frank Capra's classic film, It's A Wonderful Life, who has been shown what a
dismal place his world would be if he had never been born, but then he finds his little
girl's rose-petals in his watch-pocket, and realizes that he is still alive, with all of the good
things in life to still be appreciated.
So, perhaps the hibiscus trees and I will make it through another year together. But
who knows? Only time will tell.
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