Paperwhites

Day 2

When I bought paperwhites for a friend at Christmas a year ago, I decided to buy some for myself as well.  They looked so plump and promising, I couldn't resist.  I enjoyed knowing she and I would share in the delight of watching the dormant, papery bulbs spring to life then into bloom right before our eyes.  

I don't know what possessed me to do this; I've never done it before.  But when that splendid party of growing and blooming and fading was over, and all flowers and leaves shriveled to a crisp, I disassembled the dish garden, stored stones and saucer, then sealed the spent, brown bulbs into a waxed paper bag thinking I might try for a reprise the following year. After a few short stays elsewhere, the packet landed in the cellarway--cool, dark:  that sounded right.  Then, to be honest, I forgot all about it until last week.

Day 6

When the year-end holidays have come and gone in this part of the world taking with them their twinkle and sparkle, winter bears down, stark and bleak.  It's called the dead of winter for a reason. With the perennial miracle of snowdrops, raising their hopeful heads out of nothing whispering spring! in our ears, still weeks away, I do what I can do indoors to hold me over.

Remembering the paperwhites, I went off in search of them and was surprised to turn up the waxed paper packet in the first place I looked. Success! Not only had the bulbs survived, but when I opened the packet, I found they had already started sprouting in there.  Who knew if they'd flower, but no matter.  I was tickled to construct a dish garden once more and prepare to watch new life--fresh, beautiful life--unfold again before my eyes. 

Day 7

Warm sun gives two long kisses every day 
that makes them glow and grow and grow and glow.  
It is so simple, this delight--complete.  It's 
nothing much, but everything, you know?  And 
then there's more--a little more each day.  They 
all but speak:  I must.  I must.  I must... express, 
reveal the life contained within.  
I hear you I say but do not say.  
Forget, remember, shiver then
begin.