A gift of plants

A morning ritual, I test the soil of a fruitful amaryllis a friend gifted me for Christmas. Over twenty-five reddish blooms from an eight-inch pot, and the plant still sprouts new stems and buds.

Such sunny kisses in the midst of this frozen tundra warm my heart as I sit in my chicken chair’s southern exposure-direct sun, another element needed to produce the plant’s bounty.

I sit with a steamy cup of Earl Grey tea with a slice of Meyer lemon. Not just any Meyer lemon, but one of many grown in my middle daughter’s backyard in Menlo Park, a suburb of California’s Bay Area.

You see, like most Americans, I awoke with visions of last night’s news reports of wildfires raging in the Los Angelas area. And I’m thankful my second daughter, son-in-law, youngest daughter, and their two dogs, are safe.

Also, their lovely house, cars, and all that grows around their home, stand unharmed. And their neighbors’ homes and plants, community churches, schools, grocery stores, business districts including the Apple complex, and parks.

For what I’ve witnessed of a fire’s fury standing beside the firepit in my backyard, wherever the wind blows an ember on dry ground, it burns. Thus, a water source must always be at ready.

This, my late husband emphasized the day he deemed ideal conditions to burn his dried burn pile “in the back forty”.

Over thirty years he dragged several connected hoses from the house to the intended pile which grew as our lawn, gardens, and trees grew. He walked up the hill to the house, turned on the faucet, walked down to the burn pile, and commenced his long-anticipated burn.

He said he learned this safety procedure as a Boy Scout. I, lacking such experience, participated as a bystander, “Just in case the wind picks up, and I need a hand,” Mel explained.

Thus, without my practiced burn pile expert this past growing season, the pile of dead branches I dragged to the “back forty” grew to new, flammable heights.

As I’ve watched and read news reports on California’s Santa Ana wildfire, I’ve recalled Mel’s basic fire prevention methods. I cannot comprehend why the town’s leadership chose to eliminate basic fire prevention such as brush removal and a superior fire department for their residents and businesses.

I cannot fathom the devastation from the loss of my home by fire. Family photographs, letters, and heirlooms. Furniture, clothing, pets. Mementos Mel and I acquired from travels around the world with fellow employees.

What on earth would I do without my books? Signed copies of Wendell Berry’s works, for instance. And the bookshelf Uncle Jim crafted for my mother that graces my study?

Yes, I must begin my “2025 Lawn & Garden To Do List”, include a “burn pile expert” for my yard’s back forty.

“Why did you plant so many trees and shrubs?” Mel would ask.

“Because leaves and green plants produce oxygen,” I’d say.

Another reason why Amaryllis sits by my chicken chair with a hoya companion from another friend.

Contact Iris at irisfarmletters@gmail.com