The Little Lupine That Could -- Part Two

A few weeks ago I posted about my newfound success growing the lupine plant--a plant that grows wild like Queen Anne's Lace along the roadways of Maine, but always died a horrible death in my gardens. But, a few weeks ago, a pretty, rosy little lupine showed the start of its towering spire in my side garden, after years of toiling. I thought this was a pretty cool little allegory and symbol of our own toiling, and maybe even foreshadowing of our own new growth, hopefully coming this summer to my long-awaiting uterus. One of you requested a picture when it was in its full glory, so here you have it, my decked-out, supertall symbol of hope and renewal where once everything was barren:

 

Sorry the picture is so ginormous, my computer was doing odd things. I wanted to show how tall it was, but the pictures kept getting squished.

I was, however, a little worried. I mean, I have a history of making too much out of little things. Reading omens into everyday events like a crazy fortune teller. Last summer, before we had our frozen transfer, I kidnapped a very stressed Bryce for the day and took him to Ithaca for a spur-of-the-moment road trip. We went walking, had lunch at the Moosewood Restaurant, and toured the gardens at Cornell. Lovely day. Except as we were driving through Taughannock Falls State Park, I saw a big, beautiful snake sidewinding its way across the road. I am a weirdo and love snakes to death, so I was like, "Ooooh, a snake! Good sign!" Except as I exclaimed that, I misjudged the snake's speed and my speed AND HIT THE DAMN SNAKE. I was inconsolable. I cried and cried, here was my beautiful omen and I KILLED IT (I assume I killed it, it was writhing in the road and I felt just horrible but couldn't go back because it was a one way road, but maybe I just got the tail end and it writhed its way into the woods to heal and live happily ever after). Traumatic, to say the least. Probably more so for the snake, but emotionally this was a DISASTER for me.

So, understandably, I was worried--lupines don't last forever. What if the lupine was done before the cycle began in earnest? What if I couldn't accept that lupines run on a cycle, too, and that if it petered out and went to seed before all the big events in our donor cycle, that wasn't a bad sign but merely more propagating and good signs? I kept this worrying to myself. But, THEN...

Beautiful baby lupine, next to the spent seeding one.

A NEW baby lupine! It sprouted another little miracle! I am, again, trying not to read too much into this, but I am just thrilled. Now I have another beacon of hope right next to the seeding first miracle, and I am not being (quite so) crazy in fretting over the life cycle of my symbol dying out before my life cycle truly begins. So thank you, Mother Nature, for giving me a second lupine to bolster my hope before we really get into all of the exciting parts of our donor cycle. I will try not to read too much into it, but I can't help but take comfort and hope out of this little pink miracle.