It’s as if we’ve been in stasis since May. First, we went to Europe. Then to Canada. Then to Colorado. In between we bought a condo in Memphis and went to Jackson, Jackson, Jackson. All that time, the house in New Orleans waited.
The HVAC dying.
Weeds growing in the sidewalk.
The courtyard unattended.
The tropicals were dead from winter but not replaced because we weren’t going to be there. Then not replaced because it was so damn hot. Then waiting because my bug man said “Don’t put anything in the ground until hurricane season is past.” And the woman who housesits the yard (yard-sits) said, “Just because we have plants for sale doesn’t mean your should be putting them out.”
Now I look at the bareness and must caution restraint. My mantra has been, if it’s still alive after all this neglect, I’m doubling down. But I must have pollinators in honor of my sister. And I’d like plants that meet my original theme of time–plants whose blooms last one day, plants that turn with the sun, plants that bloom at night.
So, for once, I’m going to do this differently. Rather than one huge mad purchase, I’m going to buy in stages. Pollinators first. Then assess and go from there.
I don’t know what’s going on, but many of my fundamental ways of doing business are changing. This is but one example. Plant therapy, I’m thinking.
I’ll let you know how it does.