Meet our
Cyclamen. For the purpose of this post, I will call him "
Steve".
Steve came to us as part of a wedding gift from my parents back in spring of this year. A wedding gift that was somehow overlooked and left behind with my well-meaning mom and dad, who have a way of killing plants with love that is just amazing.
My mom called about a week later to let me know that
Steve was still at the house, and we neglected to take him. I told her we would pick him up next time we came down.
Next time came and went, and we did it again. No
Steve.
Steve was banished from memory for a while, until my mom brought him up in one of our ensuing weekly phone conversations.
Steve was still at their house, but "
your father fed him and now it's dead". He was originally doing well enough, not thriving, but not hurting either. But then, my dad fed him. My dad seems to enjoy feeding the plants for what-ever unknown reason.
A nice large, yellow road sign beside all of the live plants in thier house that says "
DO NOT FEED THE PLANTS", sort of like the "
DO NOT FEED THE BEARS" signs that you see up in Northern Ontario, would have helped
Steve's situation. Though, the reasoning is slightly different - unlike the bears, the plants don't seem to become aggressive when they're fed by humans, they just die.
So there sat
Steve, on their kitchen counter, in his final death throws, the few leaves left barely hanging on, yellow tinting their edges, indicating that his time in this world was almost up.
Steve had been in full flower at the moment when we were to have originally take him home. Not so anymore.
I told my mom not to discard of him, "
but hang on, we're coming up soon, and we'll bring him home. Hubby likes to tinker with indoor plants, and bring them back from certain, impending death, so we'll give Steve a chance." Of course, at the time, he was just '
the plant' and not '
Steve'.
Steve finally came home with us about 2 months after we were suppose to have originally taken him. Though, not neglected, but beaten down by too much love and food, he was a mess. That is where hubby took over. He has a way with plants like no one else I've ever seen. Him and
Steve took to each other right away, and it was the beginning of a beautiful relationship.
Steve blossomed, pun intended, under my husbands watchful eye, becoming stronger and more vibrant everyday. He spent the summer on our porch, just watching the crazy world go by, and it became clear that he he was meant to be here with us, not in a garbage somewhere as another discarded, unwanted house-plant. His leaves multiplied, his stalks and chutes became firm, and eventually he needed to be re-potted in a larger container. A very good sign in the world of plants.
Steve was getting fat.
With
Steve flourishing under hubby's care, we were eager for the day to come when he would produce flowers.
Months went by, and he continued his neighbourhood watch, though now it was from our bedroom window, bathed in sun during the day, and protected from the evils of frost at night. Still no blooms.
Every day we checked, searched through his leaves, intruding upon his personal space in hopes that we would find the beginnings of a flower or two. No such luck.
Then, one day my husband called me to come and have a look.
Steve had buds, soon to be flowers!
And the rest, my friends, is history.
Steve, in the photos of this post, is doing extremely well, is happy, well-adjusted, healthy, loving life and full of flowers. A nice little token, a happy memory of our wedding, though he was not with us in Cuba, he is a refreshing, fat little reminder of that day.
"Steve" in full bloom
My husband has brought many plants back from the brink of death, from
umbrella trees, to
cyclamen,
ficus trees, to
Japanese maples and the unknown, rather large tree/plant thing that is sitting in front of our living room window. So, if anyone has any unwanted house plants, he'd be happy to rescue them from you, and give them a good caring, knowledgeable home where they will be loved and appreciated. He likes plants, what can I say?
