But then . . .

For more years than I can count I’ve purchased a pink hibiscuses from Costco. This year, yellow was the only color in the hibiscus isle, and if you understand warehouse stores, you know certain items must be bought the day you see them, because alas, when they’re gone, they’re gone. Though it wasn’t my color (or even very full), it wasn’t worth risking no hibiscus, yellow and scrawny it was.

I took it home, repotted, watered and placed in it’s reserved spot on the patio and then waited with anticipation. The hibiscus is a small, beautiful, all-season-long blooming tree which brings my heart a simple daily dose of joy.

Within days all the leaves turned yellow.
I watered it, no response.
I fertilized it.
I watered it some more and waited.

And then . . .
all the leaves fell off.
Every. single. one.
This had never happened before.

Dismayed, it seemed a return trip to Costco was in order, with a slip of hope that my beloved hibiscus trees would still be in stock.

But then . . .
it rained.
It rained, and rained, and rained.

And then . . .
little green buds sprouted everywhere. They grew, unfurled, and even more sprouted until this given up on, written off as dead, little tree became a flourishing deep green beauty with endless little yellow buds.

These tight little buds seemed to take longer than usual to open, but once they did, it’s been an endless explosion of growth, fullness and beauty.

Maybe I’m over-spiritualizing this (I probably am), but I’ll take a lesson, or even simple observation wherever I can. I had done what I knew to do for the little tree, but it was when the rains came from above that it took a turn. Receiving what it really needed, that hibiscus came back to life and has produced an excessive amount of flowers since that rain; more daily blooms than in any previous years. Apparently it had a lot of life hidden within it, I’m so grateful those rains came before I gave up on it.