As I was scurrying getting ready to go to work, I was suddenly stopped by the forlorn expression of a plant. My night-blooming Jasmine was not-so-silently looking out the window. I could feel it. Her leaves were turned for optimum sun intake, even as the sun in that particular window wasn’t that great. She had strained all winter to reeeacchhh as far as possible to let as much sun as possible enter her plant veins. She was at her breaking point. She wanted to go back outside. Desperately.
She had gotten the proper amount of water and fertilizer all winter. But it wasn’t enough to make her happy. She was plodding along, possibly dreaming of her escape from the house. She never wanted to be a houseplant. She was doing it, yes, but she didn’t like it.
“Bring me raindrops on my leaves”, she whispered.
“Let me feel the wind caressing my stems”, she pleaded.
“Sun!” she begged. “I need to feel the bright sun!”
“Oooh, the moon. I so need to see the moon again……”
I could feel her distress.
“Soon my pretty.” I lovingly touched her foliage. “Soon.”