Tuesday, June 18, 2013

My Balcony Flower Pot

I once had a green thumb.  Friends would walk in my home and feel the beauty of the outside in the confines of whichever apartment I currently occupied.  I even recall feeling a tad upset when I visited Utah for the first time after I moved across the country.  My dear friend Adam asked if he could have all my luscious plants because there was no way they would survive the 1,800+ miles in the back of my U-haul.  He promised to take very good care of them so I relented, but when I returned for my first vacation home, there were none left alive to visit.

I once had a green thumb.  Give me any withering, growing thing and I would have it blooming in a short period of time.  Eventually, the relocating and traveling so much in the corporate world took it's toll on my nature friends and they became fewer and fewer.  Then one day I chose to settle and bought a house with many, many stairs and levels.  I worked full-time, part-time, and worked diligently to finish my degree as an honor student.  In my "spare" time, I didn't take care of plants (that required many trips up and down many stairs), but instead volunteered for various non-profit organizations that were near to my heart (or just happened to be short a few hands).  It wasn't long before only one green friend remained.

I can proudly say this one green friend is still thriving in my home.  It might have something to do with being on the same level as the kitchen or with the promise I made to my best friend that I wouldn't kill it.  For fun, I periodically email her pictures so she knows I kept my promise.

On my balcony, however, there is a large flower pot.  I must say it was blooming quite beautifully and for some time!  Of course, the plant had long died and the bloomers were very lively weeds.

That flower pot, now trimmed of Seymour (sounds way better than Audrey II), still sits on my balcony filled to the brim with rich soil.  It, unfortunately, does not hold anything more precious than some cigarette butts (etc., etc.).

"What is that?" asked my neighbor, Audra, to her husband.  Gene picked up something from their yard as I balanced our other neighbor Christy's baby on my hip.

"I think it's a clump of deer fur," Gene replied, analyzing the mass.

With a sheepish grin, I piped up, "No, it's not deer fur.  It's Zeusy fur."  I was brushing him on the balcony and stuffing the fur balls pulled off the brush into my flower pot.  Apparently with strong winds, cat fur travels!  I would have been happier knowing it traveled on the other side of my house (to the neighbor I don't care for), but c'est la vie.

Tonight, my flower pot boasts a fancy blue pen.  The damn thing is practically new but skips like Raggedy Ann on Raggedy Andy's face.  So, I pitched it into the garbage abyss of my balcony flower pot.

And I just felt you all should know.

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