I started some paperwhites in November. When they still hadn't bloomed, after Christmas, and i was leaving home for 3 weeks, i gave them away. One i left here for the housesitter, and when we returned, one bulb was in bloom.
Apparently i have much more patience with plants than with people, because i couldn't bear to pitch out the other 3 bulbs in the container that seemed to be stuck at an inch tall. So i've been waiting. Waiting. Waiting.
One of those bulbs bloomed today! Three months after i started it. The slow-starter gives me joy, like a Prodigal Son. I had thought it never would show up.
Life unfolds on its own, according to its own pace. Life doesn't happen on my schedule, doesn't happen on my calendar. (Though i often like to believe that it does or that it will.) Life has its own internal calendar. Life. Happens.