Bloom Mandala
By Laura
12/2/2020
Like many of you, I’ve spent more time at home this year (2020) than ever before. I counted and confirmed: a life-long record set for the number of nights slept at home in my own bed in one year, 357.
This new sleeping pattern ultimately led to, rather than exploring the world and other people, a huge amount of time exploring my immediate surroundings and inner world.
The love between my houseplants and I was defined by “Emotional Plant Hour”, a phrase coined by my partner at the time, to describe how, after a week or two trip (work/life balance was absurd back then) I’d come home and examine all my houseplants, with corresponding squeals of elation and despair, “This leaf has grown huge!” “This one has died.”
But staying home in 2020, I watched each plant grow, cell by cell, and blossom. The outdoor branches growing heavier angles, sap forming masses on the pine trunk. At one point I had eleven different houseplants blooming. It started with the gardenia bushes and their glorious eight month run, signaled by my aunt a few hours south posting that hers had blossomed. Mine began a few days later. Then the knockout roses planted by someone else. The potted yellow sedum variety, my African violets continuing steady throughout the year, the purple lantanas, meadow beauty, marigolds, polka dot plant, spider plant, swamp mallow. The earth star had triplets, which I later learned was an indication of dying. And that was just in ‘my’ domain, not counting all the wild flowers up by the mailbox, somewhere in East Texas. I even had what I identified as a pine blossom fall onto my porch. The mimosa hostilis and tiny blue grass flowers scattering beyond that.
I sat with them, watered them, wandered around awing at them. Painted them. My Opus Magnum shown below.