Howdy. After a morning of blood-letting (I have small veins… sometimes petite is not a good thing) and finding out that my glasses are going to take longer than I thought, I went a little stir-crazy and asked my eye doctor if I could steal some Focus Dailies (disposable contacts)– just for the drive to LA. And he said okay. And my eyes said okay and spent 90 minutes obeying the contact lenses.
So I’m back in LA. YES! (And trying not to drive…)
Today’s snack is not a food. It’s a plant, but not a food plant. (As far as I know.)
Backstory: Remember how I gave Mr. Tea the pancake molds? Well, he gave me a hydrangea. And I went into overprotective parent mode, always wondering if I’d watered it enough– and possibly over-watering it, just to be safe.
Before I left for my eye appointment on Saturday morning, Mr. Tea said, “Maybe you should bring the hydrangea in. It’s supposed to rain.” (I keep the hydrangea on my balcony.) (Urban garden!) Not really understanding the type of storm that was headed for LA, I said, “Perfect. I’ll leave it out, and then I won’t have to worry about whether it has enough water.”
Well, it got enough water, all right. (See top photo.) (My roommate actually brought the hydrangea inside last night, but I put it back out there for dramatic effect/because I thought the sun would heal it?) (I’m kind of silly.)
I told Mr. Tea the bad news: It had taken me a whopping less-than-a-month to kill his lovely gift. And I was also pretty depressed, because that hydrangea was my baby/pet. (I take a lot of unnecessary pictures of it.)
But Mr. Tea was not perturbed. He sent me a link to an eHow Guide to pruning hydrangeas. So prune I did! (AKA cut off the broken stems.)
(The picture came out dark, and pulling up the exposure gave it that halo effect.)
Looking a lot less sideways, right?
And it just so happened that my yellow mums from the Farmers’ Market were way past ready to throw out (and I didn’t get a chance to go to the market this weekend for purple daisies… if there even WAS a market, what with the storm and the LA marathon), so I was able to use my prunings to make a new bouquet. (Also Mr. Tea’s idea.) (The man’s a genius!)
Out of one thrashed plant, I got a vase full of lovely flowers and a more or less vertical hydrangea again. My sadness about the plant gave way to… feeling pretty proud of myself for fixing it up (with encouragement from the internet-chatting sidelines).
So I managed to dig myself out of a few low spots today. I got back to LA despite an initial lack of options AND I managed to turn a wretched outdoor plant into a not-so-wretched (and sometimes-outdoor, but probably not when it rains) plant, and a lovely indoor arrangement. I took my metaphorical lemons, and made myself some metaphorical lemonade. Sweet, sweet lemonade.
Looks pretty alive, right?
I reported to Mr. Tea that all was well, and the plant and its clippings were looking good. “That’s the beauty of a potted plant,” he said. “It’s the gift that keeps on giving.”
Not to get all shmoopsy, but I was thinking that latter sentiment about Mr. Tea himself.