When I got home from work last evening, one of the impatiens on my porch had wilted. The others still stood straight, reaching to the light even. I had watered all of them just that morning. They all are about the same size, in nearly identical pots. They’ve been equally tended and fed. But this one little plant seemed stressed, where the others thrived.
I filled the watering can and gave it a good dousing. While on the porch, I pruned a few dead blooms, cut back a large assortment of greenery in a floor pot, and moved the herbs around. The sage didn’t make it, but the rosemary and basil still seem likely to survive.
This morning, I noticed that the plant which had been flagging yesterday had fully revived. I sat next to it, sipping coffee and rocking. I felt a kinship with that little impatiens. Both of us struggle to bloom where we’ve been planted. So far, it seems to be making the better job of it. But I still feel hopeful.