Remember when I brought the baby orchid home over a month ago? I've watched over it, carefully transporting it back and forth from Breckenridge to Denver several times. It became like that psychology experiment that kids sometimes do in school when they're asked to care for a 5 pound sack of sugar as though it were a baby. I've already raised babies so I can tell you - the orchid was not as much work. A little water and sunlight plus remembering to take it with me if we were going to be at one house or another was all that was required. In fact, even when my husband inadvertently threw his jacket on top of it, no damage was done.
The baby is blooming!
As with any baby, it's not necessarily what I'd envisioned from the buds. It's a flamboyant (perhaps even gaudy) pink. Sometimes, I think it looks unnatural, and I wish it were a quieter hue. It doesn't care what I think - it grew and became what it was meant to be.
Sometimes it sits it in the sunlight. Other times it rests on the mantel. I like how it looks next to my Karen Scharer painting.
For a little orchid, barely out of diapers, it has a commanding presence. Yes, even though it's not blooming quite like I thought it should, I'm in love with it. As soon as these first blooms fade, I'll give it a bigger pot - more room to grow.
Just like a child, I'll encourage it to flaunt its true colors.