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ri.J can still remember the annual excitement of the first frost from my childhood. The weather reporter would atmounce that Jack Frost would arrive that night. My brother, sister, and I would be recruited as foot soldiers. With mother as the commander-inchief and Dad as the outdoor collector of plants, we brought alt of the house plants back inside the house...pots and pf&nts (some dug from the ground, miscellaneous bugs and all.
There was never time to dean the pots or arrange for the right place to put the plants in this ritual of cold and chaos. But everything found a spot indoors for the night, with ferns cuddling up to the cactus and crotons comparing colors with the coleus. Every surface but the kitchen table was covered with plants.
It wasn’t easy settling down for the night after excitement that was only surpassed by Christmas morning in our house. How many plants needed to come in? Would they all fit? How much had they grown since being set out the spring before? Can we re-pot those with roots coming out the bottom now or just cut off the roots? What to do? The pressure and excitement filled the air. The house was transformed to a tropical forest of secret flora and fauna.
Memories include Avoiding insects that dame in with plants
’ I learned a great deal from these “greeting-of-the-cold” rituals. Never drop your clothes on the floor...especially where the prickly pear and Old Man cactus live. Sleep through the night, or at least stay in bed until it is light enough to see a trail through
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