A Lesson in the Long Winter Bloom

The Gardener’s Heart

I am a gardener by nature, which is a polite way of saying I am a person who simply cannot say goodbye to a living thing. I am the one who keeps the Flores de Navidad (Christmas Poinsettias) long after the leaves have started to drop, nurturing them until the dry baseboard heat has finally and absolutely won the battle. I also hold onto every winter bulb—from the fragrant white Narcissus (Paperwhites) to the sturdy trumpet shaped Amaryllis—with a stubborn, quiet hope of their return the following season.

While others might toss their holiday bulbs out once the initial bloom is over, mine find a permanent sanctuary on my kitchen windowsill.

The Two-Year Wait

After a beautiful initial bloom in 2023, my two Amaryllis bulbs decided to take a two-Christmas hiatus. The holiday came and went—twice—and they remained as stubborn brown bulbs, refusing to push out any green and repeat their festive performance. They sat in my kitchen, far from looking their best. Friends asked why I was keeping dead plants on my windowsill, but I continued to water them and let them bask in the Tappan sun. I didn't use fertilizer or fancy tricks; I just held onto the belief that they were simply biding their time.

In many industries, especially the fashion industry, we are taught to obsess over "seasons" and "delivery dates." If a collection doesn't “bloom” on schedule, it’s marked down and moved out. But life doesn't always follow a retail calendar.

The Blizzard Catalyst

This January and February, the world outside my window turned a blinding white. Two massive storms dumped a combined 36 inches of snow on my home. As the white drifts piled up against the glass windows, something shifted inside those pots.

Maybe they saw the white landscape and finally thought it was their cue that Christmas was here. Or maybe, like many of us, they just needed the pressure of a storm to find their strength. Suddenly, the stalks didn't just grow; they raced. Every day I watched them stretch higher, reaching for the very top of the window frame as if they were trying to see over the snowbanks to find the sun.

The "Cinco" Miracle

And then, yesterday, the first one opened.

From all my prior experiences, an Amaryllis usually gives you four flowers atop a stalk. It’s the standard. It’s the "industry norm." But mine? Mine opened into five perfect, velvet-red flowers. I like to think of it as a lucky clover—a "high-five" from nature. After two years of "overwintering"—of just maintaining and surviving the quiet phases—these plants didn't just bloom; they exceeded the standard. I found myself wondering where they found the energy to florecer like that? I suppose two years of deep hibernation can do that for a soul—and a bulb. It turns out they weren't just sitting there; they were gathering everything they needed for this exact moment.

The second bulb is just at the beginning of its flowering journey, and I’m so excited that it extends this beautiful indoor garden well into March. It gives me something to stay inspired by before my true love of gardening begins—starting seeds indoors for my outdoor vegetable garden.

So, I am so happy to enjoy at least two weeks with my beautiful Amaryllis friends while the snow melts here and the outdoor temperatures are still in the mid 30’s. I’ve missed their loud, trumpeting beauty these past two years, and now that spring is around the corner, I think I know what their job is: to announce the change of season in my home. I want to embrace them and give them a big hug like a friend I may not see for another two years, soaking in every vibrant note while they are here.

My “Hibernation” Takeaway

I realize I’ve had my own "windowsill years." The quiet gaps between big projects where I felt I was just "staying green" without any flowers to show for it. But the growth was happening in the dark, under the soil, waiting for the right blizzard to call it forth.

My advice? Don't rush your bloom. You might miss the "holiday" deadline, and you might not look your best for a season or two. But if you keep watering your roots and seeking the sun, you won't just meet the industry standard—you’ll break it.

Here’s to the storms that make us stretch. And here’s to the "Cinco"—the extra bit of magic that comes to those who know how to wait.

Questions on Personal Growth

• Have you ever had a "windowsill year"—a period where you felt dormant or "brown" while everyone else seemed to be in full bloom?

• We often view "not producing" as a failure. Looking back at a quiet time in your life, what were you actually "gathering" beneath the surface?

• How do you keep "watering your roots" when you don't see any green leaves yet?

• When was a time you exceeded the "standard four flowers" of your industry simply because you took the extra time to prepare?

• How do we tell the difference between something that is truly finished and something that is just "biding its time"?

And now the second amaryllis is in bloom just in time for International Women’s Day!