"Our green valleys will be greener once we
fully grasp the infinite vitality of the green!"
-- Mehmet Murat ildan
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| Shamrock flowers 3-18-14 |
"She turned back to inspect a bank of greens:
olive, jade, leaf, kiwi, lime,
a silver-green like the back of birch leaves,
a bright pistachio."
-- Anne Bartlett, Knitting
If push comes to shove and Spring refuses to come to me, then I guess I'll just hafta go out and buy it.
Which I did, sort of.
As I drove past our local garden center, the light-up sign was blinking "Come in and buy a shamrock!" It was St. Patrick's Day, after all, so I thought "what the Hell" and went in.
It was nearly closing time, and except for a couple of workers winding up hoses and cautioning me not to slip on the wet floor, I was the only person there. It's more of an outdoor/landscaping kind of establishment, but they do have a little bit of a greenhouse. They'd just watered the hanging baskets, so water was draining and dripping down from overhead as I walked underneath.
Even though it was only 29 degrees outside, the late afternoon sun warmed the greenhouse air, making it dewy and heavy. It smelled sweet, vital and alive, like dirt and moisture and growing things and flowers and well, Spring. Even though outside was still hard, cold and monochromatic, in here it was all green and hopeful.
There was a 3-shelf cart by the window full of shamrock plants in full flower. The blooms were all turned toward the glass, straining their little white faces to catch the last light of the waning sun. I couldn't help wondering who, if anyone, would buy all of these little beauties once St. Patrick's Day was over. What is the market for shamrocks after March 17?
At $10 a piece I couldn't adopt them all. But I brought home one, watered it and put it in my kitchen window.
Everybody knows about shamrock leaves. This time of year every other house in the neighborhood has a tacky glittery one hanging on the front door. But shamrock flowers get short shrift. I thought the tiny, tender, trumpet-shaped blooms were delicately lovely.
With a name like Erin you might think I'd go whole hog for all the St. Patrick's Day schtick. Heck, I didn't drink anything green. I didn't even wear anything green. I did beer-braise a corned beef and boil some potatoes and carrots, but that's about it.
And I adopted a shamrock. I guess that's my "something green."
It's still sitting in the kitchen window looking out, patiently watching Winter dig her stubborn heels in, wishing and waiting, like me, for Spring to show up.
Who knows? Maybe having a shamrock in the house will shift the luck of the Irish in our favor and we'll finally get our wish.
That'd be a good thing.
