‘Tis but thy name that is my enemy;
Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.
What’s Montague? It is nor hand, nor foot,
Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part
Belonging to a man. O, be some other name!
What’s in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet;
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call’d,
Retain that dear perfection which he owes
Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name,
And for that name which is no part of thee
Take all myself.
I’ve posted images of this tiny little tea rose before….tough little nut I tell you, though it’s never done this well before. I do not know how it has survived the poor treatment I’ve delivered on it, but it is, after over ten years, finally in a little pot on the back deck, with a drip irrigator settled in at its base…and it seems quite pleased with the situation.
This is bloom number two, with two more on the way.
I tend to be hard on plants until they demonstrate that they are resilient, have good survival skills, and have redeeming qualities.
A little bit of kindness and a plant blooms.
When a plant doesn’t do well, you shouldn’t blame the plant, you should examine the environment that it’s trying to survive in.
People are like that too.