My orchid is at it again. Not the one that dropped its petals last time, the other one.

I was sitting in my big chair (where I’m sitting now) when I noticed wrinkly petals on the smaller orchid’s only stalk.

I bent toward the plant and saw bright green new bud tips peeking out from the end of the stalk.

“Oh, I know what you’re doing,” I said. (Yes, I speak to my orchids. Why not?)

The next morning, the petals hung limply, like wet dishrags pinned to a clothesline.

The morning after that, there were five spent flowers on the floor.

The second to last fell today.

There is a sole survivor, unwrinkled. Maybe that one stayed behind to tell the new buds how things work around here.

The fallen flowers were a good reminder, especially this time of year. If there’s something I want to add into my life (like exercise, healthy eating, or fun), I need first to answer a question:

What will I give up to have enough energy for the new growth?

 Chewing the Cud of Good

Thankful for my warm parka on freezing cold days.