Lessons on hope and survival can sometimes be gleaned from the most unlikely circumstances. Such was the case when a rather colossal flower met with an unfortunate accident.
The story began when my mother, Vivian deBrito, and I drove over to Raleigh's Atlantic Avenue Orchid & Garden last November to get an amaryllis bulb. The indoor flowering bulb is a favorite of many during the holiday season.
Mom decided on a large bulb that was to have red blossoms with white stripes. I had gone along for the ride since I was staying with my family while looking for employment in the Raleigh area. I lost my job more than a year ago.
"I found an article in The News & Observer about planting amaryllis bulbs," Mom told me. We followed the directions and waited for what seemed a long time for signs of life, even wondering if we had a dud. But before the holidays hit, leaves began sprouting and finally the bud appeared.
Good things don't always come in small packages - this was a big bulb and it sent up a large stalk and then some. My folks and I watched each day as the stalk went well beyond the 20-inch height that was advertised. At more than 33 inches from the top of the pot's rim, the bud finally started to unfurl.
Slowly all four flowers emerged from the one stem and they were of Marilyn Monroe stature - well-endowed and showy. To merely call the flower a Hermitage amaryllis didn't seem adequate to us, so Mom and I dubbed her "Miss Mary."
So we could better appreciate the stunning flower, we carried Miss Mary into the living room from the kitchen, where it had gotten its start. We had all been craning our necks to view the tall plant while seated at the kitchen table. It could more comfortably be seen at eye level when it was placed on the fireplace hearth.
On the night of Jan. 5, I thought it would be best to take the flower back to the kitchen so it could catch some morning rays. I slowly raised the heavy pot. A moment later, Mom heard me cry, "No ... oh no!" She rushed into the living room just in time to see the amaryllis stalk and flowers dangling by a shred. It had caught under the overhanging fireplace mantel as I lifted it and was almost completely severed.
I was devastated, but I immediately took action. I realigned the stalk pieces and asked Mom to grab paper towels, stiff paper and packing tape. She held the stem in place while I bandaged it. We performed an emergency orthopedic procedure of a sort on the spinelike stalk of Miss Mary, using strips of computer printer paper for a splint. After the makeshift cast was applied, Mom and I carefully took the injured amaryllis back into the kitchen, where we agreed it should permanently stay.
Looking for a sign
I felt horrible for what had happened - I was family, but also a guest, and I had probably destroyed the plant that we were all enjoying so much. It seemed to be another unfortunate incident coupled with my more serious one of unemployment. When things are bad, sometimes even much lesser problems can be magnified.
Lying awake in bed, I decided that there was nothing else that could be done. It was time for me to muster some hope that the stem would still be able to partially nourish the four full blossoms - unlikely, because of the extent of the break, but I needed a sign that things could get better.
In the morning, I steeled myself and went to view the damaged flower.
What met my eyes was beyond what I thought possible. Not only had Miss Mary survived, she didn't even show a hint of a wilting petal. Aside from the large white bandage on the stalk, nothing else showed that the plant had been nearly decapitated. It was remarkable. Even days later, the prime of the flower held fast.
"As long as it was in full bloom, it might be able to sustain itself if enough of the stem was still intact," said Dean McKinney, inside store manager at Atlantic Avenue Orchid & Garden.
But the broken stem had been hanging down toward the floor, being held on by a small shred.
My folks think that it was very unusual for the flower to have survived unscathed, but I like to think that it was a bit of a miracle showing that when the worst happens, if you take action and retain hope, one can survive and even flourish once more.
Barbara Pate is from Montana but hopes to find employment in Raleigh.
