When my mother moved from Houston before the turn of the century (I love referring to time that way), she left a lot of pots that had once had flowers or plants, and I figured most of them were long gone. Then one year I was shocked when some green stalks I hadn’t paid much attention to suddenly produced the most amazing flowers. I called her and asked what they were, and that’s when I learned to identify amaryllis.
Some years it would bloom; some years it wouldn’t. One thing we do is just leave it alone; it seems to know what it’s supposed to do without any input from us. The years it appeared, I always saw it as the official sign that we were in full spring–and that was usually early to mid April.
It’s early this year.
I’m always glad to see it because it’s like a gift from Mother–and that’ll be even more appropriate on Tuesday.