Of the Two, I Choose...

If you were to glance at my two geraniums (is that the correct plural? perhaps it should be gerania), you might think, "Well, those are nice enough." But upon a closer look, we find the two halves of what makes a nice geranium split between the two pots.


On one hand, there's the geranium with the pretty red blooms. There must be 10 blooms on that bad boy. And they're nice blooms too. Not those about-ready-to-fall-off pitiful excuses for red flowers that the other guy has. What makes this geranium unique? Well, the only difference in the two is the amount of water he's had. This poor guy had the luck (unluck... or maybe disluck, as it were) to be positioned underneath the corner of the house during a rainstorm. And without gutters (which Jon is very disappointed we don't have), the water pours off the house right there. So, the waterfall made its base inside the pot of this geranium. I've been pouring standing water out of it for days. And there always seems to be more. But... the blooms are beautiful. The rest of the plant, not so much.


Then on the other side of the coin (or the entryway, as the case may be), there's this guy. All of his blooms fell off (like, seriously, ALL of them), but his leaves are this beautiful deep green... and much healthier-looking than the other plant's leaves. Plus, there are tons of them (leaves, that is); as opposed to the nearly non-existent foliage on the other guy.



Now, someone please tell me... they get the same amount of sunlight, one has had this big huge dose of water that won't go away (and is more than likely drowning it) while the other gets regular keep-the-dirt-wet drinks... how can one possibly raise a good-leaves AND good-blooms geranium? I need my Granny and Me-maw to come help me with my thumb coloring. The black is obviously not working so well for me.

Thus ends another no-worries-here post. You know, I wonder if you truly want to hear anything that's not rose-colored. I'm not up to writing it, so the point is moot, but I just wonder. Anyway, here's something that I find interesting. For the last couple of weeks... well, maybe just one week... when I wake up, I cannot for the life of me remember what day it is. I am truly, truly baffled as to whether it's a workday or a weekend (and often need someone to clue me in). It's quite disconcerting, actually. I've always just been able to know upon waking what, in the most general of generals (Lord knows I would never plan the specifics!), the day holds. These days, I'm starting with an absolute blank slate. And I do not like it. Perhaps it's time to breathe, look around, and reflect on life. If only... if only... if only... to simply remember what day it is when I wake up in the morning.