The unexpected snowfall has become heavier, despite the relatively warm weather outside. Though not yet a blizzard, the flakes visibly huge and the quantity enough to turn the view through the windows one of a translucent white curtain. From the safety and warmth here, the green plants watch the white drama unfolding. They have been observing since day light has broken and the snow had already been falling. The verdant mini-forest in the living room sits quietly. There is no wind here, no disturbance, and there are different plants coexisting in their own little pots whose sizes accord to the owner's. Outside there are no plants, save the city trees that stand naked without a hint of leaves as they stand sleeping through this winter that doesn't seem it will last very long. But for now they sleep in the safety of their unconsciousness while their cousins in this living room watch on with patience and silence.
The African violet has been producing flowers all year round. Little flowers that start out as little violent balls size of a corn seed and soon blossom into happy faces with golden centers. The leaves would eventually turn towards the outside if someone would reposition the pot. Other plants behave the same way, and now it's as if they all want to quietly enjoy this white spectacle that is playing itself out in the danger outside. There are a few cars moving about, making slushy sounds as their tires roll over the bed of snow melting in the warm road and under the constant pressure of the vehicles. But there was plenty of the beautiful but cold stuff from the heavens. The sky, which the plants always yearn to see, doesn't appear for very long in the winter, though now that we've passed the solstice, the bright sky bestows the plants with its grace a little bit longer each day.
It is at night that the plants hang their heads a bit more. At night it's difficult to see what is happening outside. The mercury light that turns the darkness into sallow depression is never of much interest to the solar power starved green forest here. The tall avocado plants have reached their maximum height given the little pots they live in and the little sunlight that they receive from inside here. They each try to twist and turn in the smallest possible steps in order to reach a place with unchallenged sunlight. It's as if they were children among tall adults on the streets where they all want to see a busker does his amazing tricks, and the children try to sneak through or climb up or squeeze between any thing to get a better view.
The sun is indeed their god. The plants are of types from different parts of the world even if they were born here in the cool Northeast. They carry in their souls in part the heritage encoded in their genes. They are not standing in the soil of their preference and they aren't among neighbors that compete and commiserate with them as their kins are doing in their native land. But here in this melting pot of a forest of different ethnic trees, they get by. The rose bush, among the smaller plants, stand tall with its thorny, thin branches, as it displays its red trophies, even though they are all dried now in the winter when water is artificially given at reduced quantities. The Christmas cactus has long blossomed but still holding its green with little water asked. It looks forward to next Christmas when it can explode into a violent drama with huge flowers that stick out golden tongues in the shapes of fire works. And the mysterious plant from Central America is slowly letting some of its leaves yellow and die to hibernate. It knows, it doesn't kid itself, that it's winter, that there is little sunlight and in its country there would be little rainfall. And it will conserve its food and energy in its roots until spring comes, at which time it will blossom not with flowers but with an ebullience of green stalks.
The oldest member of the forest, the original colonist, stands on a pedestal. It's a palm plant that grew up in some greenhouse at some multi-national company's warehouse far away until it was adopted long ago. It has experienced many winters and has seen many snowfalls like today's. It is still happy to see the drama outside but it doesn't share the same enthusiasm. Its leaves show yellowing on the tips to show its sadness and longing for the sun. It's not a big plant, but it has captured a lot of drama in its leaves, in its bulb that used to be the seed from which it grew up, and in its heart it is content to live another year in this region of extreme seasons.
Below it, as if worshiping it, are the two newest comers. They are hardy plants that aren't as sentimental about the sun as others. A grapefruit tree and a kumquat tree, both small but full of dark green leaves that can capture the slightest bit of sunlight. They are used to this type of temperate zone, and they are grateful to be inside here in the warmth despite the lack of sunlight. They will continue growing in all seasons, and perhaps will surpass even the avocados if they gods allow them a bigger pot. They are enthusiastic about becoming members of this small multi-ethnic ecosystem, and they look forward to their first spring here when the extra sunlight will give them an even greater boost.
