This spring, my orchid sent out two stalks. Both grew gorgeous, huge blooms that cascade like a waterfall of creamy petals.

About a month ago, my orchid sent out a third stalk.

I looked at the green stem, then talked back to the plant. “That wasn’t smart. You think you’ll have enough energy to keep three stalks blooming? Might as well kill off the new one now.”

My orchid had other plans and popped out little buds along the new stalk. I expected them to wilt and die.

Nope.

Instead, I watched the flowers on the largest stalk fade, then shrink and shrivel, petals thin and wrinkled like ancient paper lanterns. The slight air movement of me walking by was enough to cause them to fall.

My orchid killed off a blooming stalk to feed the new bud-filled stalk.

My orchid is smarter than me.

It knows if I want to do something new, I need to kill off something old, even if it is blooming and beautiful.

My orchid is wise.

And ruthless.

Chewing the Cud of Good

Thankful for mornings cloaked in mystery.