- F. Rochefoucauld
One of my best friends of over fourteen years, and with whom I shared many dreams and struggles, including the all-consuming struggle of infertility, gave me a hydrangea on my birthday one year. It was the birthday spaced perfectly between my finally becoming a mother, and her finally becoming a mother. The blue flowers were blooming beautifully.
Shortly afterwards, our friendship dissolved.
There are many reasons why it ended, and I won't go into them now, but the plant quickly became a symbol of my anger and resentment. After it started to dry up in the pot, I placed it on the far side of the deck outside, so I didn't have to look at it.
It was still standing at the end of the season, so I hurriedly transplanted the dried up stump in the ground during some outside playtime. I separated some soil around with my hand, threw it in the ground, and in a shady spot, even though hydrangea like a lot of sun. I didn't care whether it took or not.
The next year, it started to sprout green. I didn't water it much. In fact I swept a lot of the dried leaves that collected on the deck on top of it.
So at the end of the season, I trimmed all the dead branches to prepare it for the winter, along with the rest of the garden.
The next year, it bloomed. It had been at least two years since I had spoken with my friend, and at least two and a half years since I had seen her. And that thing was blooming. How dare it.
A few months ago we contracted a landscaper to re-do our deck and discussed all the demo of the materials and plants surrounding it. I told my husband I would likely transplant the lavender, but there was nothing else of real value around the deck.
This week, we got word that the permit was in place and demo will begin. I went to the deck area and surveyed the situation. Everything was mostly dried out from winter still. A few tulips and daffodils were starting to sprout, so I could re-locate them without much detective work. The lavender could easily be transferred in its dry state, so that was a no-brainer.
But the hydrangea... had a few buds. It was as if it was screaming out to me that it was prepared to move. It wanted to be heard.
So I moved it.
And I fertilized it.
I even found myself placing our beloved garden frog next to it.
Let's see if it will take in its new location.
I can wait.