I inherited my first Schlumbergera bridgesii from my grandmother, and it never bloomed. I didn’t even know the green plant was supposed to bloom around the December holidays, although I finally discovered that this winter flowering is why Schlumbergera bridgesii is commonly called a holiday or Christmas cactus.
I’m sure if my grandmother had known, she would have called it a Chanukah cactus, seeing as the Jews wandered the desert for all those years.
Unable to keep the inherited plant alive while also caring for two young children, I didn’t risk killing another holiday cactus until years later, when a more botanically inclined friend educated me on its name and flowering patterns. I was thrilled to see tiny fuchsia buds form on the plant’s tips that December, and when the buds bloomed I imagined my grandmother was smiling down at my plant and me.
“Finally!” she said in my mind. “I’ve been waiting years for those flowers; hot pink was always my color.”
In December of 2016, new buds began emerging just as our sweet dog, Nellie, was experiencing inexplicable and severe pain. As she was tested and prodded, I struggled with the reality that she would soon be leaving us. Every morning I stared at the buds, musing that perhaps they would bloom when Nellie was gone. It comforted me to imagine that her puppy soul would go from her body to my plant, transforming into a new life.
We said goodbye to Nellie on Dec. 22, 2016, and the buds bloomed a few days later. Rationally, I knew the two incidents were unrelated. Emotionally, I needed them to be connected, and so they were.
Recently, we fostered the cutest puppies ever, and their presence soothed the ache that all of us felt without our Nellie. Yet I nixed the pleas of my husband and kids; I would not adopt a 10-week-old puppy. Both foster pups were adopted by other families, and we settled into our canine-free life.
I was not prepared to want another dog so soon, but my family was relentless. They sent me links to rescue dogs listed on Petfinder, and I took the bait. I browsed on my own and discovered DeeDee. She was described as a sweet 1-year-old lab mix who probably would make a great therapy dog given her even temperament. I sent the link of her webpage to my eager family, and on a brisk Sunday last March we met her transport and brought her home.
It was love at first sight. DeeDee was renamed Hazel, and I am ridiculously smitten with this dog. She adores my teenagers, and they adore her. At 30 pounds and almost 2 years old, she will forever look like a 6-month-old lab pup.
I cannot go into Costco or Home Goods without buying a toy for Hazel, and her obedience graduation certificate is taped on my refrigerator door. She is my new baby now that my babies are halfway out the door, and I’m basking in the unconditional love and adoration. The last time I began raising a dog, I also was raising two kids under 7, and the canine was definitely the third priority. Now, I have the time and attention to bestow on my new pup, and I am unapologetically doing just that.
We had Hazel for a little over a week when I noticed tiny fuchsia buds on my holiday cactus. My plant has never bloomed in March; it’s never bloomed any other time but December. Yet each morning the bud was a little bigger than it was the day before.
Finally, the bud became a flower, blooming eight months earlier than it ever has before. I imagined that it was Nellie wagging her tail and telling us she approves of our new dog. I know my cactus isn’t actually a link to the doggie beyond, but to me, that early bloom was a celebration of Hazel joining our family.
I don’t know who had her first or why they let her go, but this sweet girl is making our impending empty nest a little fuller.
A Baltimore native, Dana Hemelt and her husband live in Howard County. They have two teenagers. She blogs at kissmylist.com and tweets @kissmylist.
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