As the temperatures dropped, we retreated even further indoors, where the orchids were in spectacular bloom.
One of our cats, Zephyr, has trained us to give him belly rubs whenever he drops to the floor and rolls (Feldenkrais style) on to his back.
The orchids require a strict schedule of watering, fertilizing, and transplanting in order to bloom with regularity. Sometimes I think about the life span of houseplants. We like to brag about owning a plant for five or ten years, but is that really a long time from the plant's perspective? It seems like most of them could be relatively immortal if they receive the right care. A friend recently tweeted about inheriting a Christmas cactus that had been in her family for more than 100 years, which made me wonder where these orchids will be in 100 years. Will I still be able to take care of them when I'm 142?
When Zephyr was a kitten, one of his favorite things to do was to chase shadows, but as he grew older, he seemed to lose interest. Recently, after noting his difficulty in holding down dry food, we decided to change his diet. In addition to helping his digestion, the new diet -- 100 percent canned or 'wet' food -- has led to a (healthy) loss of weight and, apparently, a loss of years, because he's back to chasing shadows like a kitten.
In cat years, Zephyr is probably a bit older than I am, but not nearly as old as this orchid.
Watching him gives me hope that I, too, will soon be younger than I am now.
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