a few small things.

ephemeral, edible, spiritual, and otherwise.

One small thing giving me hope right now is the geranium plant blooming on my windowsill. For one thing, it’s a spot of bright salmony pink in the middle of grey February. For another, it was nearly dead just two months ago.

This plant, brought in from the outside ledge sometime early November, was moved from its sunny perch when our Christmas tree took pride of place. By the time we returned from a week away over New Years, the stuffy heat of our closed up apartment and the lack of sun had just about done it in. One of stems had gone soft, while the leaves on another had crisped up and curled in on themselves—the whole thing a wretched combination of too wet, too dry, and too little cared for.

I lopped off the compromised stem and plucked off the curled up leaves until the only healthy stems were just about bare. I topped off the potting mix and put the ugly denuded remains back on the sunny sill. For several weeks it taunted me, looking like a pot of dirt a child had stuck a stick into more than a houseplant. My kids wondered over it, asking why I was watering a dead plant. I wondered the same, unclear why I wasn’t just dumping the contents into the compost and carrying on with things.

But then, as it does, the smallest bit of care began to work its magic. No longer putting energy into leaves that had already given up, fresh leaves began to sprout. The mushy stem healed over. Lime green baby leaves umbrellaed out, growing wide and dark green. Last week I noticed tiny buds had formed, and this week, they bloomed. A thank you, a gift, a much-needed reminder of resilience.

All of this, metaphorically speaking, is the exact opposite of what’s happening currently in Washington, where rather than inject federal agencies with needed nutrients, or thoughtfully trimming off what’s no longer working and nurturing what is, the whole plant is being willfully left to die. A half-dead plant can be saved with care and patience and a bit of benign neglect. A mostly dead plant, left in a shadowy corner with a festering stem will continue to shrivel, further justifying to destructive forces the lack of care they initiated in the first place.

Just look at those pink blooms. Look at what I would have missed out on had I stopped caring and thrown what wasn’t working in that moment into the trash rather than considering what might work soon enough, with a bit of attention and a bit of care.

ANYWAY.

Here are a few other small things—ephemeral, edible, spiritual, and otherwise— bringing me hope, comfort, and some joy this week. Hopefully they’ll do the same for some of you: