Blanca is laden, a lady awaiting, full with buds. Thirteen now hale and hardy measure three inches long. We count them daily, wishing each one will succeed, reach fruition. We’ve begun to speculate about her due date. Nine more days, guessing the rate-of-growth per day, which brings us to the 27th, an old friend’s birthday, a date that still resonates after all these years. Anniversaries. See more at Jean Follain’s poetry collection: A World Rich in Anniversaries, something I read in grad school, too long ago.
So we are engaged, watching the weather, fussing around her, planning again. This could be a momentous inflorescence. There’s a sense of gathering forces, Blanca’s third effort this season to reproduce. Where are the creatures, moths, bats, that would pollinate her flowers? Is this why she keeps producing?
Already the tentacles of circumstance are stretching. Which are the events, the people who will be drawn together with this blooming? We have a busy schedule of events at the bookshop next weekend. We’re making the most of the end of summer season. Is Blanca doing the same? Is this her last pregnancy before Dormition? We count the days, and wait.
“The fineness of things gives the universe nobility.” ~ Jean Follain
Late Night Bloomer 
Will she stay for me?
Rains and cooler temps may slow bud growth somewhat…yet we’re still predicting blooms around the 28th. Blanca waits for no one, I’m afraid… 😉