My Guilty Admission

by Nola on January 20, 2014

20140120_160219You may not know this about me yet, but I’m a total softie. ┬áIf you’ve taken note of all the kitty and dog pics I “like” on Facebook, or if you happen to observe my watery eyes and damp tissue hoard at the end of almost any movie, you’d know just how big a softie I really am. And so it is with dread that I approach this time of year, this day that always causes me pain and guilt: Poinsettia Execution Day.

What is it about the way they pot these lovely plants that makes them begin to wilt and discolor even before the Christmas tree itself is dead? I water faithfully, and yet by mid-January, the plants here at our computer repair shop had the perpetual “droop” and curl of neglected foliage. At home, I might baby them along for another month or two before I admit defeat, but here at our place of business, it just looks bad to have dying plants sitting around. So today I screwed up my courage and took them out to the dumpster. Poinsettia Execution Day.

Back inside again, I distracted myself with the business of the day. I made calls, balanced the books, prepared invoices and generally forgot about the carnage taking place in the parking lot. Then I made the mistake of taking a load of garbage out. And there they were in the bottom of the dumpster, brave, bright colors still unfaded, a few of the leaves still intact and perky. I was seized with the urge to rescue them before it was too late. Maybe if I repotted them? Fed them? Maybe if I put them in a dark warm closet? (I’ve heard that is good for Poinsettias.)

And then I made myself do it. I closed the lid on the dumpster and walked away, ignoring the plaintive little plant calls that were certainly coming from the murky depths. It was hard. And I’m not over it yet. I keep thinking about them out in the cold. In the dark. Waiting to be rescued.

Next year, I am simply not buying Poinsettias.

– Nola
“Small town…Big love.”






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