Persistence...

 A sweet customer gave us a wee potted cyclamen three years ago for Christmas. It brightly bloomed over and over in its tiny pot. Then, it began to look a little sad, so I transplanted it. It grew dramatically, sending out new leaves and flowers at a shocking rate. Last spring, I transplanted it again. Shortly after that, it began to look sad. I watered more. It became yellow and sad. I watered less. It began to drop its leaves. Then it became inexplicably sticky. It appeared to be infested with aphids. I have no idea how that happened; I've never had that problem before. I bought a special spray. The aphids laughed. My poor, previously vigorous plant looked pathetic. As much as I like houseplants when they begin to look crummy, out they go. I sadly tossed the plant out into my flower garden. 

My kindhearted friend Sunday sometimes comes and helps me with yard work. It was late summer when I noticed she had taken pity on the poor, abandoned plant and tucked it into one of the flower beds. It was bravely putting a few new leaves up. I watched it for weeks, and more leaves appeared. I was impressed and glad that my merry little plant had a new lease on life. 

As summer came to a close and frost threatened, I dug it up and popped it in a pot. Though it had several leaves, they looked kind of rough, with tattered brown edges. I didn't know if being transplanted would be the death knell for my small friend, but I gave it a spin. 

Now it is January, and here is the cyclamen. The sweet pink blossoms have made me smile countless times in the last three years. Especially so now that it has been granted a new lease on life. My husband quips, "Life is persistent." This little houseplant certainly is, joyfully so.