The Amaryllis

It is white this year. This is the first time it has ever been white. In the past they have always been red. They come faithfully every holiday season, the mailman delivers them in the same shaped box every year, with the return address of Hurricane, Utah. The content is comfortingly always the same, a kit to grow a beautiful flowering Amaryllis from my oldest brother Wayne. It was his late wife Phyllis's favorite flower. He now sends them every year for Christmas in her memory. It is not a sad reminder—instead it is a reminder of hope, and here is a story to explain why. It comes from an experience that happened five years ago . . .

The end of November, 2005, I received a brown box with the words “Jackson & Perkins” printed in on the outside. I opened the box with curiosity. Inside was a shiny red ceramic pot filled with 3 gigantic bulbs nestled in peat moss. Someone had sent us Amaryllis bulbs for the holidays. A note inside read, “And enjoy your living gift with the warm wishes of the thoughtful person whose name appears on the outer address label.” Upon further inspection I realized that my brother Wayne and his wife Phyllis had sent us this gift. Every year my family rotates names for Christmas, and that year my oldest brother Wayne and his wife Phyllis had my name. I was moved that they had found the time to send this plant, for Phyllis had just finished her last round of chemotherapy, and the treatments had been very difficult on her. (Back in June, 2005, she had also gone through a successful double mastectomy for breast cancer.)

This gift was also appreciated since I had purchased several Amaryllis bulbs as gifts for my friends. I planted them and gave them away just in time for them to bloom during the holidays. My two young children were upset that I had given the plants away before we were able to enjoy any of the flowers. I felt bad that I had not bought an Amaryllis for our family to keep.

So, here I was relishing taking the packing off the bulbs in the festive red pot. I placed the new gift in the bay window in our kitchen. Our family anxiously awaited the glorious blooms.

The plant did not disappoint us, and the oversized bulbs sprouted long green stalks which exploded into crimson trumpet-shaped flowers. Every time I looked at the plant it made me happy.

I took the above photo on December 30th, 2005 to e-mail to Wayne and Phyllis, along with a short note telling them how much we were enjoying their present.

I didn’t receive a response to this e-mail. I was puzzled, since Phyllis had always been so good at corresponding. I soon found out the reason, Phyllis had not been feeling well since her chemotherapy ended in November, and health problems were beginning to emerge for which the doctors didn’t seem to have answers.

The beautiful blooms began to fade on the Amaryllis weeks after the Christmas decorations had been put away. I pulled out the directions that had come with the bulbs:

After-Bloom Care
After the Blooms have faded, cut the stalk off 1”- 2” above the bulb, being careful not to disturb the foliage. Continue watering and apply fertilizer occasionally, as you would for any potted plant. In the fall, discontinue watering and store the plant in a cool place (45 – 50 degree F). Approximately six weeks before blooms are desired, return your Amaryllis to room temperature and begin watering – lightly at first until growth is observed, then normally, to keep soil moist.

All of that seemed pretty complicated and life was busy with kids, their school, and numerous activities. So the once magnificent plant got stuck out on our back patio, neglected and un-watered. I had fleeting thoughts of planting the bulbs in the garden if I ever found the time.

Time passed by quickly at our house as the children’s school year drew to an end. During the past few months news of Phyllis’ health was like a rollercoaster ride. She is doing better. Now she is doing worse. Without reason, her health was declining. Details became painful to hear, as when Phyllis e-mailed us the following on March 9th, “They drained the right lung (her's) on Wednesday (2 liters fluid.)”

Intricate tests were run to find out why she wasn’t thriving. News of the test results came as fingernails scrapping a chalkboard—apparently the chemotherapy had done irreparable damage to her heart. Sadness crept in, as hope started slipping away. My brother Wayne e-mailed the following on June 9th:

“Phyllis is really tired of the pain, her inability to do anything, and the quality of life she has experienced this past year. She almost welcomed the thought that perhaps the pain and frustration may soon be over. Her spirits are high, and right now her major motivation is to get somewhere where bells and alarms do not ring, no one takes your blood sugar and blood pressure every hour, and you eat what you damn well want!”

Early Sunday morning, June 18th the painful rollercoaster ride came to an end. We received news that Phyllis had passed away peacefully the night before, surrounded by her husband and two of her daughters.

With a heavy heart we made the trip—flying from San Jose to Las Vegas, and then driving on to Hurricane, Utah for the funeral services. Traveling the long distance in the sweltering summer heat was hard for me, for I was dealing with pain from a recent ankle surgery and navigating around on crutches. But, this was a trip that I needed to make.

Saying goodbye to a loved one is hard. Phyllis’s service was a solemnly sad, yet wonderfully eloquent farewell. Memories of a “Getting to know you form” she had filled out and e-mailed me (on September 19, 2005) came to mind. When answering the form’s question, “If you could have any job what would it be?” Phyllis had written, “The Grandmother that I am.” Her funeral services given by her family proved she had successfully done the job she had set out to do in this life, and she had done it well!

Life marched on at a brisk pace for me–kids to take care of, appointments to keep, responsibilities to meet. Time can be cruel; it doesn’t slow down or pause when our bodies and minds ache for reprieve.

Just shortly after returning home I was sitting in the kitchen still trying to recover from the tole our trip had taken—feeling sorry for myself that my foot was still swollen, sore, and impossible to walk on —something caught my eye outside on our back patio. I rushed out to see . . . it was a new blossom beginning to emerge from the overgrown leaves of the abandoned Amaryllis. In disbelief I stared at the plant in the dusty red pot. My mind raced as I went back into the house to look up the instructions that had come with the bulbs. I pulled them out of my file and slowly read: “The Amaryllis is for indoor blooms on a yearly cycle. With proper care, the bulb will flower again each year.” This plant had bloomed just six months ago! How could it be blooming again, so soon—without any care?

Maybe this was just a coincidence, but I would like to think differently. I don’t know many people in my day-to-day life who would understand the significance of this bloom, but I do know someone in heaven that would. A small miracle seemed to have happened—one to brighten my day, remind me of a loved one, and tell me that my journey to Hurricane had not gone unnoticed. My thoughts drifted back to the short message that had come in the box with the Amaryllis, “And enjoy your living gift with the warm wishes of the thoughtful person whose name appears on the outer address label.”

Photo taken July 14, 2006

I feel part of the meaning of Christmas, and celebrating the birth of Christ, is to have hope. Hope that there is more to life than our crazy everyday existence, and hope that relationships and love reach past the bounds of this life. May you keep your loved ones close and enjoy each moment. Merry Christmas!

Don't Forget to Enjoy the Sunsets!

On Thanksgiving Day I captured this photo of the sun gloriously tucking itself into the ink-blue ocean for the night. As I stood on the rocky beach enjoying the scene, I noticed I was surrounded by other people who were doing the same. Everyone stood in silence, a sacred ritual of sorts; the flaming sun demanding attention as it made its final exit for the day.

This experience reminded me of a fond memory from a few summers past. We had just spent a fabulous day at the beach at Point Lobos with my brother-in-law, his wife, and five children. We were walking back from the beach to our car in the parking lot when we noticed three white haired elderly people getting out of an old model Jaguar. Their lively chatter and laughter portrayed that of younger years. Our attention was further drawn to them as we noticed the two gentlemen and one woman take out an elegant white table cloth, a chilled bottle of wine, and three Champaign glasses which they set up at a nearby picnic table overlooking the ocean. Seeing their joy and excitement, our curiosity got the best of us, and we asked, “Are you celebrating something special?” Their time-softened faces, filled with smiles, turned our direction. One of the men proudly said, "Yes, we ordered a beautiful sunset!"

The reply made us all smile. We couldn’t help but catch their contagious mood for the upcoming sunset. How poignant it was to see these young-hearted-golden-yeared individuals celebrating THIS sunset as if it were their first. We all watched as the sun bowed low, issuing in a blazing sky that brought the day to a close.

What a sweet memory this experience is to me, a reminder to enjoy the simple things in life and to surround yourself with those that do the same. It made me believe if you were to do these two things--growing old would seem irrelevant. Love for life and people are timeless.

Wishing you many beautiful sunsets!

Playing Hooky

Recently I was driving on the freeway, after doing something I had to do, and on my way to do something I needed to do. Blah, blah, blah. My life seemed so monotone and filled with have-to-dos. Driving south on the 101, I noticed a sign above the freeway that said "Los Angeles" (which is 6 ½ hours south of where we live). I knew Disneyland and carefree times were down that road. It took all my mental energy to make my responsible self take the next exit off the freeway—to my home—where my “Have-To-Do” list would continue. Even after taking the exit, I longed for that imaginary day at Disneyland—away from cares, worries, and responsibilities.

Spent. Yes spent is how I felt. That is when life becomes all have-to-dos with no want-to-dos. A shiver of panic rattled me, a panic that my days may begin to blur into “sameness” and the sameness may melt into years. Dramatic, I know, but spent days have a tendency to be that way. I think it was just my heart saying, “Wake up and don’t let life pass you by!”

The cure? I decided to play hooky (Merriam-Webster’s definition: one who shirks duty :-D). No, I didn’t get back on the freeway and head to Disneyland, but a couple of days later I took the day off to go to the Monterey Peninsula. You may have found a theme to my blog posts; I often go to the coast when I feel emotionally bankrupt. Something about the ocean air and the beauty of the sea is medicine to my soul. It reminds me there is more--wonderful and inspiring more--just outside my routine-driven life.

So, the following Monday, after dropping the kids off at school, my hubby and I headed to Monterey. This is a place where famous people like John Steinbeck and Robert Louis Stevenson lived, and probably played a bit of hooky themselves. The beautiful Monterey Peninsula. It was easy to imagine Steinbeck’s words echoing from the past as we drove down Cannery Row, “Cannery Row in Monterey in California is a poem, . . . a quality of light, a tone, a habit, a nostalgia, a dream." (John Steinbeck, opening sentence, Cannery Row. 1945). Come along with me, as I share some of the sights we saw that day.

Monterey has enchanting trees. The one above is by Dennis the Menace Park. The exotic Monterey Cypress trees below are at Lover's Point.

To put the size of the trees in perspective, my hubby is almost 6' 6" tall. The above 3 photos were taken at Lover's Point where we parked our car, then walked west along the coastal trail.

Memorial benches are scattered along the path, allowing one to rest as well as to sit and drink in the view of the ocean. A bench that we passed on our walk (below) had an engraved saying that perfectly fit our day of escape. It read, "May the beauty of the sea give peace". Yes, thank you, it has!

Above and below: Large bushes of aloe vera plants garnished the trail.

Above: Remember those large Monterey Cypress tress my husband was standing by earlier? Those trees are now the small trees you see in the distance, in the center of the photo.

There is so much to do and see on the peninsula! Our time was limited to just a few hours while the kids were in school. So we jumped in the car and headed over to Pacific Grove's Butterfly Trees, only a few blocks away. The weather was in the low 70s, so we knew it would be a great day for viewing the migrating butterflies. I know I just made a blog post about the Natural Bridges State Beach monarchs, but there are actually three main areas to view the migrating monarchs in California, the two places I have mentioned here, as well as an area farther south in Pismo Beach. After being so amazed by the butterflies in Natural Bridges, we couldn't pass up checking out this monarch refuge, located by the Butterfly Inn on Ridge Road in Pacific Grove.

How incredible it was to be able to view the migrating monarch butterflies in two different locations, both on days they were active and flying around. How blessed we are to live so close to such amazing places!

The few hours we had passed by too quickly. We brought our trip to a close by eating lunch at a quaint outdoor restaurant on Lighthouse Avenue before heading back home.

Ahhh, how nice—to play hooky for the day—to re-group, to re-fill, to re-generate . . . to re-fall–in-love with life!

The Magic of Monarchs

For centuries mystical creatures of all description were gathered into a hidden refuge called Fablehaven to prevent their extinction. The sanctuary survives today as one of the last strongholds of true magic. Enchanting? Absolutely.

So reads the back cover of one of my children’s favorite books, called Fablehaven, by Brandon Mull. The book, tells of two children named Seth and Kendra who go to live with their grandparents that happen to be caretakers at a sanctuary that is a refuge for mystical creatures. When the children walk through the gardens at the sanctuary, numerous butterflies dance through the air, and land upon the flowers in the garden. Unbeknownst to the children, at first anyway, the butterflies are really fairies. The children are delighted by the magic of the grounds and the butterflies (as well as other things they find there.) I thought of this book as I took my two children, who are also a young boy and a girl, to the Monarch Butterfly Nature Preserve at Natural Bridges State Beach in Santa Cruz.

Natural Bridges State Beach is famous for its yearly migration of monarch butterflies. At the peak season, thousands of monarch butterflies can be seen in the eucalyptus grove near the beach. We called ahead of time (ph # 831-423-4609), to plan our trip, so we could see all the butterflies in all their glory. We were told by a park ranger that although the monarchs can be seen from mid-October to late January, this year the peak time to visit was around October 23rd through November 7th. We popped over there on the warm Sunday afternoon of October 31st.

I thought it was endearing to read on the park pamphlet, “In 1983 California State Parks established the monarch grove as a natural preserve so that future generations of monarchs—and people—may find sanctuary here.” Entering the grove with “Quiet” signs labeling the path, and butterflies flitting through the air like leaves, I felt like I was in a sacred sanctuary for both butterflies and people. To see nature at its best is an amazing gift to witness. At the end of the path, there was a wooden platform where many people stood (or even laid there) gazing up, transfixed at the flocks of butterflies above.



A ranger was there answering many questions and giving out amazing facts about these beautiful insects. Here are a few things we learned about monarch butterflies:

On chilly days when the temperature drops below 60 degrees, the butterflies cluster together in the eucalyptus trees for warmth. The purpose of this cluster is for survival, and to avoid being dislodged from their companions by the wind and rain. (Below: a shadow of clustered monarchs.)

Monarchs are unable to fly when the temperature is below 55 degrees (13 degrees Celsius), so there are many days when they simply stay put. They live off the fat and water stored in their abdomens. Cooler days require a butterfly to warm up its flight muscles, either be shivering or basking in the sun.

The sheltered grove of eucalyptus trees provides ideal conditions for the monarchs—a temperate climate, safety from the wind, and sources of food and water. The eucalyptus is a winter flowering tree whose nectar provides a convenient source of food.

When the days begin to shorten after the fall equinox, the monarch butterflies throughout the western U.S. begin a journey of up to 2,000 miles to find refuge from winter’s cold. The butterflies find sanctuary along the California and northern Baja coastline. The monarch is the only butterfly that migrates both north and south as the birds do on a regular basis.

The monarch butterflies go through four generations each year. The first three generations hatch from their chrysalis state and live for up to six weeks, but the fourth generation continues to live on for up to six or eight months so that they can migrate to a warmer climate, hibernate, and then start a new first generation in the spring time.

Monarch butterflies are one of the few insects capable of making trans-Atlantic crossings.

These butterflies are poisonous. They won’t harm humans, but the chemicals from the milkweed plant that they eat when they are in the larvae stage builds up inside of them and gives them a poisonous defense against predators like frogs, birds, mice and lizards.

A male monarch has a black spot in the center of each of the hind wings over a vein. The female Monarchs have darker veins on their wings and are often thought to look darker in general.

We were told that monarchs are not yet an endangered species; however their yearly migration is considered an endangered phenomenon. As the years go by, their wintering habitats have been lost due to wildreness that is being cleared for building and development. Also, people are using chemicals to kill milkweed that grows in the wild, so monarchs are losing their food supply. Some scientists also believe that pesticides that are used to kill mosquitoes and moths are also harming and killing monarch caterpillars and adults.


As in the book Fablehaven, this Monarch Butterfly Nature Preserve is one of the last hidden refuges for the migrating monarch butterflies. It is there to help prevent their extinction. The sanctuary was truly magical, as we witnessed the beautiful fairy like insects fly among the eucalyptus trees. Nature is so very fragile--life really wouldn't be the same without the magic of butterflies!

For more informaton, go to:
http://www.parks.ca.gov/?page_id=541

How does your garden grow? With beautiful dahlias all in a row!

Okay, I really should be posting about Halloween, or about seeing the beautiful migration of monarch butterflies we saw at Natural Bridges State Beach last weekend. But instead, I wanted to tack on a P.S. to my last entry regarding the San Francisco Conservatory of Flowers, since this post really is a part of that post. I didn’t include this with the last post, because I have too many photos I wanted to share! So here goes—

Hidden away, as a resting rainbow might be, the Dahlia Dell garden at Golden Gate Park is right outside the Conservatory of Flowers on the East side, off of John F. Kennedy Drive. Since it is so out of the way, it makes it feel like a magical discovery when you come upon it. We visited this area in late August, when the dahlias were ablaze in plate-sized blooms of different shapes and colors. The dahlias have had this dedicated plot of land near the Conservatory of Flowers since the mid 1920’s. Here are some photos we took that day—it doesn’t do them justice—the size and color just can’t seem to be accurately portrayed in a photo. (Click on photo to enlarge.) Enjoy!

So, if you are planning a trip up to visit the Conservatory of Flowers at Golden Gate Park, I would highly recommended going the end of August, or first of September so you can take in the dazzling Dahlia Dell at the same time!