ORCHIDS GALORE

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Some years are harder than others, and for us, the first part of 1986 was a difficult year. I remember thinking of us as survivors of a bad patch, when in August we sat in our garden sharing a bottle of champagne in celebration of our 7thwedding anniversary. With some insistence a large blue butterfly started circling around my head and as I jerked away, Oswaldo said, “Calm down, she just wants some champagne.” Sure enough, when I put down my old-fashioned, wide-mouthed coupe, the butterfly sat on its rim and helped herself to some Veuve Clicquot. We felt in the presence of something wild and unexpected, a kind omen perhaps, and a few weeks later I discovered I was pregnant with Victor. He was born on the birthday of my grandmother, who had passed away that July.

 


After a stoic 2020, the first part of 2021 has not been easy for us due to several health-related reasons. Today, when I limped out in my garden, still with a brace on my leg, I suddenly realized nature had left another upbeat message. We’re enjoying, or rather marveling at, an unusual, never-seen-before bumper crop of orchids. 



I have counted at least 10 different kinds in extraordinarily full bloom, including a red orchid, planted 17 years ago after our silver wedding party, and which almost never flowers. 



Several other buds, scattered throughout the trees, are just about to burst open, revealing their colors, and there’s a bunch of irises peeking from a forgotten corner, reminiscent of a Monet scene.

 


We’re in springtime here and the birds are singing their hearts out, especially in the early morning; the Sabiá (Rufous-bellied thrush) has the loveliest voice of them all. A fierce hummingbird couple has made a tiny eggcup-sized nest on a precarious branch swinging above the pool. The  little iridescent birds don’t tolerate any interference, whether from us or birds, when one of them will shoot out in full fight mode, wings outstretched, and chase the intruder away. 

 

Nature is saying, I think: Look around you. Appreciate what you see, hear and smell. Here are the toucans screeching from the high trees, the monkeys swinging through the jack-fruit trees, the parrots swooping and chattering this way and that, and even the frightened rat running from Zaffy, when she visits the garden at night to do her business. There are the plants working overtime through cold spells and extreme heat, rain and drought to claim your attention with colors and scents. And above you stretches the sky with gorgeous sunrises, sunsets, phases of the moon, and the immense cover of bright stars – the names of which you never seem to learn.

 

Forget about politics and the crazy people who fester there, forget about the news. Try not to worry, it won’t make any difference.

 

Appreciate all that you have, and you will survive another bad patch.

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