I'm not here to pour out any sort of age old Frangipani wisdom, toward your educationally ready ears.. Which I am sure are hungry to learn! Nope. Sorry to disappoint. This post is more about the two as separates, and you'll understand what I mean as you read on.
It is Sunday morning.. And the rain is heavily pounding the side of the house. Clickity clunk, spitery splat .. a light rumble of thunder and a slow turn to a steady symphony of taps along the window sills. I meander to the kitchen, away from my laptop and the hopes of creating a well written post. It's been some time since I have devoted myself towards such a task, but it will again have to wait until a second cup of coffee is made and consumed.
As I wait for my modern day appliance to spit out another hot cup of golden goodness, a litter of yellow flowers at the other corner of the kitchen, catch my eye.
This would be the third or fourth time I would gently collect them and toss them into the waste bin. Along with each fallen flower that has collected on the tile below, is a day gone by and one closer to the end of this beautiful moment ..
The approaching end of the flowers.
The rain continues .. But steady's now into a more gentler lullaby. Sleep is over, the coffee is beginning to warm my soul from the inside out, and at least one daily chore is done for the day. I shuffle my feet back up the stairs, taking a seat back in front of the open and waiting lap top. My fingers find the keys as my thoughts attempt to form some sort of rational dialog for my small audience. It's been 17 day's since that has last happened.
Or otherwise called, Plumeria .. (As my wife would rather me refer to it as) It has been about 10 weeks or so since we first noticed the Plumeria flower bud beginning to form. It grew rapidly, developing into a beautiful bunch of deep yellow colored flowers. We have thoroughly enjoyed watching the transformation, from bud to bunch, take place.
As something ends, something else begins .. Or so they say. I feel let down knowing this display of beauty, along with their simple, sweet fragrance, is coming to an end. However, it is the beginning of this Plumeria's growing season. She is just getting started and has already surprised us with a new branch.
This new division is already about 3cm long .. and growing at a rather rapid pace. We can't wait to get it outdoors again and to it's happy spot on the patio. It did so well out there last summer, so we are looking forward to moving it back once again when the time and temperatures are favorable for it.
The foliage is much larger this year .. Not sure if its from being outdoors last year or the fact that I have more consistently given it feedings of fertilizer. Either way it has grown substantially and is now beginning to lean over toward the window.
I may need to purchase another stake or two to give it more support.
I still see a few additional flower buds that have not opened yet. We may have another week or two of blooms to come, but they are slowly diminishing.
We will enjoy them for as long as our little, but growing, Plumeria decides to display them to us.
Happy Birthday to my Grandmother who turned 101 years young this last Wednesday!!! I am so happy that she has had such a long and wonderful life. She is still living on her own, with some help, and has a sharper mind than my own. Over the last 101 years she has kept her unwavering faith, her ever present grace, a strong moral compass that never points her in the wrong direction, a great sense of humor, and a last but not least.. a fire and desire to see Penn State football win another national team championship.
When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;
And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.”
― W.B. Yeats
