I have rescued yet another plant on a freezing cold trash day. The last one was a palm of uncertain origin with frondy leaves. It had been sitting out at the curb since the night before and though it still preserved a greenish hue, it gave way in a soggy thaw as it warmed up indoors and dropped leaf after leaf. Apparently you can’t be from the tropics, turn into an ice cube, and recover. I was, for weeks, still hoping its dead core would sprout another new plant but no.
This one however seems to have been put out to the curb this morning. I biked by and saw a huge leaf peeking out from an empty black garbage can. It has to be fake! But it wasn’t. I took off my zero degree ski gloves and felt a leaf. Still glossy, dusty even. Who would pitch a plant like this?
In the piles of other garbage I found an empty paper bag. Hauling the plant out by its stalks, I transferred it to the paper bag and flopped it into the bike trailer. The bag had a huge hold in it and did nothing to keep soil off the seat.
“I can SAVE you!” I told the plant with preemptive glee.
It looked promising. I wrapped it tenderly in my son’s “ping-wing” blanket. The ping-wings are all wearing scarves and mittens and ice skates. The plant settled in for the quarter mile ride back to the house.
“Almost home!” I shouted back to it several times on the ride. I had just the other day bemoaned the diminutive size of our small forest of houseplants, and the non-diminutive cost of purchasing large plants.
“It’s a Christmas tree!” I giggled as I pedaled. I will try to convince my five year old. He will not be interested, he has already expressed his desire to buy an evergreen that touches the ceiling, like Papa’s.
Happy Christmas to me, little joys are peeking out of garbage cans everywhere!
Post 15 of Waiting: An Advent Series
