Bloom Is Off The Hibiscus

Dear Hibiscus:

By now, surely, you've realized that it's over between us.

You've been dumped, literally, and I'm sorry. It's not you, it's me.

You have done your best over the years, I know, to keep our relationship growing. And though you thought I didn't notice, I always appreciated the way you hung in there when my attention was diverted by pretty newcomers.

We've weathered stormy times and long droughts; we've dealt with thrips and aphids and scale. We've had our ups and downs, and I kicked you to the curb more than once, but you always came back into my life.

It's hard to believe we've been together, on and off, for almost 20 years.

Of course, I was an admirer long before we actually met. I saw your picture and dreamed we'd be together someday. You were so much better than the plants up North: the tulips, the geraniums and, yes, even the roses.

You were showy, and yet, in your way, fragile, too. I liked the challenge ... at first.

But, Hibiscus, I didn't know how much work this relationship would require.

I placed ladybugs one by one on your leaves and blooms, hoping to clear up your persistent health problems. I gently bathed you in insecticidal soap. I fed you and watered you and read books on how to keep you trimmed and healthy.

Still, you seldom seemed altogether happy, no matter what I did. When you bloomed, your leaves were a little yellow. When your leaves were green and healthy, you didn't bloom. You were moody, you got downright ugly sometimes, and your addiction to insecticides and fertilizer was embarrassing in front of the neighbors.

OK, maybe it was you.

The palms I planted in your place will never be as colorful, or as romantic. But they're not as needy, either.

I wanted a clean break, but we couldn't even get that right. Your roots are still buried deep in my yard, and it will take weeks, maybe months, to get you completely out of my life.

You'll be forever in my memories, dear Hibiscus. But never, EVER, again in my garden.

Kim Franke-Folstad