Many years ago, my mother passed away in August.
A few weeks later, a dear friend gave me a hibiscus plant and said,
“Every August when it blooms, you will think of her.”
A few weeks later, a dear friend gave me a hibiscus plant and said,
“Every August when it blooms, you will think of her.”
The first year, we kept it inside. Its leaves all fell off, gnats appeared, and
eventually we banished it to the basement, I couldn’t bear to throw it away.
eventually we banished it to the basement, I couldn’t bear to throw it away.
By spring, it looked like nothing more than dry twigs. We were about to toss it into the woods when
I noticed the tiniest green leaf. I asked my husband to plant it outside, just to see what might happen.
I noticed the tiniest green leaf. I asked my husband to plant it outside, just to see what might happen.
Sure enough, as August approached, buds appeared.
By August 10th, my mother’s anniversary, the biggest, most brilliant red flowers were in bloom.
Every year since, "Grandma's plant" has bloomed faithfully in August.
By August 10th, my mother’s anniversary, the biggest, most brilliant red flowers were in bloom.
Every year since, "Grandma's plant" has bloomed faithfully in August.
This year, I decided to photograph the entire process; the bare branches,
the first signs of life,the amazing blossoms, and even the dried, fading petals.
Each stage holds its own beauty, a reminder that even in endings,
there is color, uniqueness, and a beauty that remains.
the first signs of life,the amazing blossoms, and even the dried, fading petals.
Each stage holds its own beauty, a reminder that even in endings,
there is color, uniqueness, and a beauty that remains.
