Feed Me, Seymour

It is raining. I got out of bed at 6:30 this morning. Why? Because I was awake. I went to bed sometime after midnight. It will be an interesting day. I bring to you a tale of woe and resurrection, in photo essay.

For my birthday in March, Husband bought me two beautiful orchids--one white, one yellow. I did not take a photo of them at the time as I foolishly assumed that they would live. Or if I did take photos, I can't find them.

The flowers dropped off, the leaves began to turn yellow, and they too abandoned their stems. I was left with mere shells; my orchids were shadows of their former selves.












They were all but dead. The little one, which had been yellow, had no leaves anywhere. No live roots underneath. I was distraught. It had died. The tall one, once white, was left with two spotted leaves and only a couple of spongy roots capable of absorbing moisture.


I decided upon one more attempt at saving them. I washed them thoroughly. I washed their pots. I changed out their potting medium (again). I fed them. And they lived.












Apparently orchid food can resurrect the dead. Do you see the new growth? The new roots? They live!