My daughter Andrea was about to graduate from high school, when her friend Allison gave her a cutting from her favorite plant, a frangipani (plumeria). She told the story of her aunt giving it to her when she was a little girl, and she called it the frangy pangy (with a hard g) since she could not pronounce or remember frangipani (plumeria). It was a lovely gift signifying years of shared connection with Andrea.
Unfortunately, my daughter was about to go off to college thousands of miles away and could not take the frangy pangy with her. I lived in an apartment, and definitely did not have a green thumb. So, when Andrea asked me to take care of the plant for her when she went away to college, I reluctantly agreed. I valued the energy that went into the gift. But, with a deep sigh, I hoped I would not kill it as I had so many plants in my past. If only I had the my mother's green thumb.
I lived in an apartment in Houston, Texas, and luckily had a drive-up parking space right to my front door. Unfortunately, my patio was all cement with no plants. At first, it didn't bother me, but it was not inviting people into my home. I had a change of heart and realized that I needed to connect with the earth energy by growing plants, in honor of my mother's amazing green thumb. When she was alive, I constantly rejected her efforts to engage me in digging in the dirt. Not my thing. Not my thing.
After discussing it with my friend Sue, whose family was really into gardening in their urban yard, she agreed to help me choose native Texas plants that would be easy to care for and require little of me to beautify my patio. I got a little bit excited. I bought a two-seater covered porch swing, because I had always loved swings and moving, never sitting still. And I found a wonderful wrought iron table with a rose in the center and a rose in the back of the chairs. So sweet. I found a couple of stained glass windows in wooden frames to hang from cup hooks to reflect the lovely bright Houston sunlight.
We went to the plant nurseries, and discussed what would be the easiest for a non-gardener to maintain. I wanted plants that required little watering, no feeding and would be hearty enough to withstand my lack of knowledge and lack of interest in plants. I loved that they were beautiful, but I did not want the burden of too much care. Pretty soon, my patio was an awesome oasis of green energy. Neighbors who had never visited me in two years of living there started to stop and chat with me, and I thanked the plants for that.
I bought a thriving aloe vera plant, which I always think looks like a native American headdress. I always call them my shaman plants because they look like feathers. They were easy to grow and practical for healing purposes. Great to heal burns and cuts and itchy things. I would sit on the swing and enjoy the beautiful, bountiful green space. Proud that I was making the effort to connect with the earth energy.
Anyway, back to the frangy pangy. The frangy pangy was in a plastic bucket without too much soil. I watered it when I thought of it, and Houston's humidity was good for it. But, after months of loving care, it was not really thriving. We had a heavy summer rain, as Houston is likely to do, and I set the frangy pangy on the ground outside and below my cement patio, so it could enjoy the tropical moisture.
The next day, I went out to move the plant back onto the patio, but it was gone. Oh, no, my daughter's legacy plant had been stolen. I was devastated. I did not want to tell Andrea that the plant she had entrusted me with was gone. So, I didn't tell her. I decided to wait until she was next in Houston to break the sad news. And that would not be for months.
Several months went by, and I forgot about the frangy pangy. One day, I was watering my plants on the patio, which, by the way, were thriving. and I was amazed at that. As I rinsed excess water off the patio, I noticed the frangipani (frangy pangy) lying on its side below the patio and behind the plants where I had originally set it to catch the rain water. I could not believe it. All these months later, and there it was, right where I had put it originally, but laying on its side. And it looked exactly the same. I was flabbergasted, but so grateful, because I had not mentioned it to Andrea, and she had not come home for a visit. She knew nothing about the missing frangy pangy.
I picked it up, and it was still in the original plastic planter. The next day, I bought a nice large painted clay planter, and filled it with organic top soil. I replanted the frangy pangy in the new planter, and set it back up on the patio with my other now thriving plants. For a girl with a black thumb, I was doing ok. It immediately started making new plants.
Andrea never knew it went missing, but I understood, from a spiritual point of view, that plants, like all of us, have their own destiny. Sometimes crystals disappear for months and return later. Sometimes our prized possessions cannot be found and spontaneously return to us. But, that is not the end of this strange story.
A few months later, I moved to the Houston Heights. I no longer had a patio, but I wanted to honor the plants in their new environment. I had a big, beautiful fenced front yard, so I placed the covered patio swing in it, and surrounded it with the plants that had been on my patio. Since it was a very shady yard, it worked perfectly with the plants I had chosen for my shady patio. They seemed very at home in the new environment.
A couple of months later, the frangy pangy bloomed, after two years, for the first time. I was thrilled. The plant that had gone away and returned, was now letting us know that it loved its new home. How exciting.
A few days later, one morning, when I went outside to have my coffee on the swing, something felt wrong. I could not immediately identify what was wrong. Later, as I sat there, looking around, I noticed the frangy pangy was gone. I could not believe it. It had grown to the size of a small tree and was full of blossoms. It was heavy and not easy to move in the large planter now housing it. And, even more, the gates to the yard were locked. How could this have happened? Was there a plant thief? Or was something mystical happening again?
I was so sad. Finally, the frangy pangy had bloomed, after two years and a huge move, and now it was gone. What was I supposed to tell Andrea? I tuned in to it spiritually, and was told that plants, like humans and other types of beings, have their own paths, their own lives, and we cannot truly own them. They are friends along the way, and if they leave, it is not our karma to track them down. If they return, it is because they choose to.
I have visions of the frangy pangy bringing joy and healing to all who encounter her. I don't know where she went, but I trust in the concept of All in Divine Order. She brought me joy, she brought my daughter friendship and loving energy, and all who saw her benefited from her beauty.
Sadly, she did not return this time. I hope, some day, I will see where her journey took her, and I believe it was a path of joy for all who knew her.
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