The Old Goldfish Trick

The changeling

One of the many delights of living with a granddaughter who goes to preschool is remembering the many Mother's Day marigolds that have come home over the years. Earnest young hands, proud young faces, tiny, fragile baby plants that had big pots to fill. What's not to love?

When Peggy brought hers home to her beloved mother, grandma was happy to take over its care.....it's what I do....grow green things.

However, the tiny, two-leafed seedling died almost instantly. I was horrified! I have a Christmas cactus my mother gave me when I still lived home...in say.....1968 maybe?

And a split-leafed philodendron that came to me when I was in college. Our house with its 3 gigantic (4'X8') east facing living room windows is like a greenhouse. Some plants die on me, but a marigold? Seriously?

So the boss and I hatched a plot...had the same idea at literally the same instant in fact. Run over to Sunnycrest, grab a box of bedding marigolds, and plant one in the now empty pot.

We put that in motion that very day while she was at school. I picked the old fashioned maroon and golden kind because they tickled my nostalgia bone for the ones we brought home to our mamas back in the days when dinosaurs were just starting to morph into birds and we were learning to see Spot run.

It was worth every mile and every single penny. When she saw it she went wild, "it grew, it grew, it grew!" and danced all around the living room.

Since the boss thought it appropriate to fill up a whole flat with other goodies for me to plant it was a winner all around.

Then we found out why the first marigold expired so precipitously. Seems Peggy dropped it on the way home with it and the poor thing was entirely uprooted and then stuffed back into to the pot with a wish and a hope.

I felt much better, what with my somewhat greenish thumb untarnished. Now to find places for all these. 

Lagniappe