My mother passed away in a nursing home in the spring. A while before she died, a friend gave her a little potted primrose. She liked it, but she kept her room dark and knew it couldn’t live in there. She figured I would give it a good home and gave it to me after a couple weeks.
It’s a perennial so I planted it outside. She had kept it in the dark pretty long and I wasn’t sure it was able to be rescued, but gave it a chance. It died back some as most transplanted plants do, whether they were healthy before or not, taking some time to adjust its roots. Then it started to get new leaves. Then it bloomed again.
We’re having a warm spell of Indian summer here, which I like. And in early December, amidst lots of dried oak leaves and when other things are all dormant for the winter, the little primrose has decided to bloom again. Admiring its determination, I appreciate it and need to share it.
Christmas is coming for those who celebrate it and it’s supposed to be a time of joy and happiness. But we have some things in our world that distract us from the good feelings we should be having at this time and make us worry about the times to come. So, when a primrose blooms planted in the ground here in December, I’ll take it as a sign of hope.