Awakening

Here’s a story about a shamrock.

After last year’s St. Patrick’s Day, I was taking out the trash and found this little shamrock in the dumpster. Why somebody would toss a shamrock instead of trying to grow him, I did not know. Seemed a little callous to me. Anyhoo, I took him home (it’s a him, BTW), stuck him in some dirt, and watered him.

He ended up growing into this awesome plant.

Here’s a fun fact about shamrocks. They close their leaves at night and open them in the morning. It’s freaky AF. When I first realized this, I was, like, WHAT? And then I was, like, DON’T GO LITTLE HOUSE OF HORRORS ON ME, I SAVED YOUR LIFE…

Fortunately, it did not. Shamrocks are not carnivorousness.

Another weird thing was the sense of gratitude I got from it. My S.O. says I’m anthropomorphizing it, but I was all, I know you are, but what am I? Then I looked up anthropomorphize, and okay, he had a point. Not that it was an important point. I still felt like the plant was grateful, and if I want to feel that way, I can, so whatever with all that anthropomorphizinwhatsamacallit.

Then I moved, and my little shamrock freaked. His flowers fell off. His leaves started to die. Soon, there was very little of him left. I was broken up about it. He lived, he bloomed, he died.  Why? Why? Why?

(I thought about using a GIF here, but it kind of harshed my vibe. Instead, imagine me throwing myself to the ground and shaking my fists at a grey and threatening sky).

Distraught, I called my mother, who is an earth goddess with the power to sing plants out of the ground. She told me that this was normal for shamrocks. He had gone dormant for a while, and all he needed was a rest. She told me to stick him in a cold dark closet and leave him alone until March.

Without light? Without water? What up with that?

She repeated her instructions. My mother is a patient woman.

I thought she was cray cray. The thing looked dead. The big D. Dead, dead, dead. Besides, who sticks a dead plant in a closet for four months?

But I did what she said, because my mom knows plants.

The winter passed (at least according to the calendar). A few weeks ago, I pulled him out of the closet and set him on the kitchen cabinet. He was still dead. I left him there for a couple of weeks because he was out of the way, but I had every intention of dumping his remains into the yard… when I saw that he was growing. One tiny stem, plus a few more.

How about that? Mom was right. My little guy is waking up from his nap.

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