Dandelions

When Colby was young he loved to garden. He could not wait every spring until we made the pilgrimage to The Home Depot or Lowe's to choose vegetables and other plants for our garden. He especially loved to plant herbs: mint, spearmint, lemon verbena, etc.

One spring when Colby was about eight, my mother was visiting and noticed we had a lot of dandelions in our yard. She made him a deal. For every dandelion he dug up with roots attached, she would give him a dime. Mom thought this would keep Colby busy on a quiet weekend and help the yard at the same time. Just think if he dug up fifty plants, what a difference that would make in your yard, she said. That's also fifty fewer plants that will go to seed.

Imagine her surprise, and mine, when Colby spent the entire weekend digging up dandelions. He dug not just fifty, or even one hundred fifty. Colby dug up eleven hundred dandelion plants. Shows you the state my yard was in. Mom made good on her deal and paid Colby $110.

Every year since then, paid or not, Colby made it his job to dig up dandelions in the spring. Today as I look out in my yard I see a number of them and I am torn. I can't bear the thought of digging them up because that is another hard, cold, reality that Colby is not here. But I should not leave the dandelions to seed the yard, either. I know this is something I have to do, hard as it will be. I will bring a lot of Kleenex along with Colby's trowel. And I will do this for Colby, to honor the many years he did this for me.

Plants

When Colby was one year old, he became the proud owner of a potted plant. He and my mom and I were having lunch at the old Woolworth’s store in 100 Oaks Mall in Nashville when, on the way out, he toddled over to a display of plants near the door. Colby inspected each carefully, then plopped himself down next to one of them and hugged it. “My Nini,” he said.

Of course, we had to buy Nini Plant for him. What “Nini” meant, I never knew, but he and that plant were bonded from that day on. When we got Nini home, Colby sat on the floor and talked to it. Not just that day, but regularly for years. There is a school of thought that plants that are spoken to every day thrive. That certainly was the case with Nini. Nini grew quite large, so we put her outside in the summer, in a shady spot on the porch. When the nights grew cool, Nini always had a sunny place inside the house.

It was Colby’s job to care for Nini and he did quite well with this until his illness and addiction forced him onto the streets. When he’d call, or when I saw him, he’d always ask if I was taking care of Nini for him. On the infrequent times he came home in the past year, Colby always had time to wipe spots off Nini’s leaves and to have a quiet conversation.

Nini has now been part of our family for 23 years. Never in a million years did I think Nini would outlive Colby. I still have a hard time finding my way around that cold, hard fact. Since Colby passed, Nini has become my responsibility. I found that Nini does not tolerate fertilizer well. I almost killer her with kindness shortly after Colby passed. I could not have withstood that, losing Colby, and then, through my own stupidity, his favorite plant. But Nini recovered and is once again doing well.

I cannot speak to Nini in the same way that Colby did, but I try. Recently I noticed that our cat, Bailey, has taken an unusual interest in Nini. Bailey, who has always ignored Nini, now frequently sits next to her, or rubs her cheek against one of Nini’s large, glossy leaves. Yesterday I heard Bailey talking to Nini as she lay comfortably next to her. “Mrrow . . . Yow.” She’s done it several times today, this from a normally very quiet cat. I am glad the two are bonding. It seems strange to think that a plant might miss Colby, but maybe she does. It seems stranger yet that a cat would recognize that need and fill it. But that’s exactly what I think has happened. Bailey and Nini. Strange and stranger. Colby would be so very, very pleased.