We brought the house plants indoors for the winter, 20 or so. They were mostly thriving after a summer of rain and neglect.
An orchid is preparing to bloom, and so is the Christmas cactus. Lush maidenhair, leggy begonia. A barren, towering avocado older than our marriage.
Monday night we were watching Frances McDormand and Bill Murray in the excellent 'Olive Kitteridge' on HBO, with chirping shorebirds on the Maine coast, and we heard answering chirps from the ungainly night-blooming cereus Donna planted, also before she met me, in her grandmother’s ceramic butter churn.
House warmth and bird calls had awakened a hibernating frog.