My grandmother had a secret mystery plant.
It sat in a large windowsill in her kitchen, in an unassuming terra cotta pot. Most of the year, it quietly warmed itself in the sun, its thick, emerald leaves gently curving over the sill. If you didn't know it's magic, you wouldn't look twice at it.
Yet, around Thanksgiving, this plant would change. A single stem would emerge from the middle, growing thick and strong. Over a few weeks, more stems would emerge and then, just when you least expected it, the stems would swell and form large, tear-drop buds.
As a child, I was enamored by this plant. Just when I thought the stems couldn’t hold up the huge buds, a shot of bright red would break through. I would watch in awe, my mouth agape, as silky, ruffled petals would uncurl one at a time, revealing intense deep red blooms. It was as if the plant, in all its wisdom, was announcing “Your wait is over, I have arrived.”
My grandmother introduced me to the Amaryllis with enthusiasm. She told me they were one of her favorite plants, not only because they were so easy to care for, but because they surprised her with their stunning beauty when she had almost forgotten about them. She always had great joy and pride when her Amaryllis bloomed.
Once the plant was in full bloom, sometimes Grandma would move the plant to the middle of the long dining room table and it would become a centerpiece for our holiday meals. It was as if the plant itself knew that the act of drawing together generations of family members, young and old, was just the sort of occasion to save its blooms for.
It taught me that flowers belong in our daily moments, both big and small.
My grandmother is now in her late nineties and can’t communicate as well as she once did. Her dementia has created a buffer between us, but I know a spark of her is still deep inside. A few years ago, I was really missing her friendship, so I brought home an Amaryllis. The minute that beautiful plant bloomed, it brought tears to my eyes. Suddenly, I was standing next to her at her kitchen windowsill, still a little girl feeling all the love in the world.
The magic of my little Amaryllis now extends to my children. On the dark, cold morning that my plant bloomed, I watched my son and daughter clumsily climb up onto the kitchen counter and ooh and awe over this mysterious little plant. They were so excited that they requested to video call my mother, their grandmother, to tell her about our beautiful Amaryllis.
Our extended family has known about this phenomenon for generations and often gifts Amaryllis to friends and loved ones. It's fun to see the women of our family discover new varieties and tell stories about their plants as if they were old friends. Each holiday season, you can guarantee someone will proudly send photos of their Amaryllis in bloom to a family text message chain.
Plants have the power to connect us to each other. They can remind you of a memory, or a loved one. They can draw us together in awe and inspiration. They can create a bridge of understanding and belonging between us.
As we anticipate the holidays ahead, consider how a beautiful plant can connect you to yourself and the ones you love. Consider starting an Amaryllis tradition yourself! Whether its in the memory of a plant, or the gift of a new one, tell stories with each other and see what magic can happen.
Thank you for choosing to join our family on this grand adventure, as we grow something beautiful, meaningful and good. If we haven't met yet, we are Sara and Teddy Wilson and we own Oklahoma Cut Flower Company in Norman, Oklahoma. We are a micro-farm that grows specialty cut flowers to educate and inspire our local flower-loving community. We are members of the Association of Specialty Cut Flower Growers.
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