It seemed to happen overnight, although it didn’t of course. These fronds of mine have been friends for years.
I’ve been in my small apartment now for five years. And some of you, gentle readers, have shared my journey as I have striven through thick and thin.
One of the things I left behind from my old life was a huge hanging basket of Boston fern (Nephrolepis exaltata) which graced the bottom deck of our house. It was a much remarked upon focal point. Determined to replicate that success, when I moved house I purchased another much smaller one and planted it in a terracotta pot, hanging baskets no longer being part of my plan.
I envisaged its long arching fronds gracing a corner of my terrace on a tall planter stand from which it could drape its gorgeous emerald green foliage for best effect and my delight. Yes I know. All a little romantic. And for a long time the fern failed to thrive.
But now, five years later (not quite overnight) I’m close to fulfilling the dream. When I look out the window or sit on my terrace, I’m reminded of other Boston ferns, other places, other lives. Friends, fronds, they blur into one. I ponder on the need things have – beyond sustenance and nurture – the need for time in the process of thriving.
The Boston fern is not the same one, but then I’m not the same person.
There is some growing to do – for both of us.
Reality is only what you imagine it to be.
“Imagination is the only weapon in the war against reality.”
“I believe in everything until it’s disproved. So I believe in fairies, the myths, dragons. It all exists, even if it’s in your mind. Who’s to say that dreams and nightmares aren’t as real as the here and now?”
“Reality leaves a lot to the imagination.”