Can’t say ‘no’ to rescue

A life is at stake.

The responsibility is weighing on me.

This is a favor, a save, what friends do for each other.

I certainly wasn’t expecting it.

The surprise came during a delightful visit.

My friend and her husband were our first visitors last night to this remote coastal house Husband and I ran away to at the beginning of the year.

These two are in the middle of their own reinvention. They sold their house and are living exclusively out of their 30-foot camper.

They thought they were going to like the RV lifestyle. They were wrong. They love it.

They spent winter in Florida. Now, they are slowly making their way to the one standing structure they’ll keep, her late grandfather’s cabin in northern Minnesota.

We were a convenient stop along the way.

Can there be better houseguests? They bring their own house.

I didn’t realize they were also bringing a project.

They don’t have kids or pets. The more stuff they can shed the happier they are becoming.

Which is how we got to the unexpected new member of our family.

“I bought a plant in Florida,” Friend announced over dinner. “We don’t do well with living things. I’m leaving it behind with you.”

There was no discussion. No ask. Just the simple declaration that I was now responsible for this living being.

“It’s a rescue plant,” Friend explained.

Darn it. She pulled out my kryptonite word.

To know me as long and well as Friend has is to know I’ve rescued dogs, three threelegged cats and chickens.

You might even say I’ve rescued a couple children, though Dear Reader, you and I have known each other long enough to know that those children rescued me.

I digress from the sad fate of this plant.

It’s quite possible it’s going from one brown thumb to another.

“What do I need to know about his geranium?” I asked before they pulled out this morning.

“To start, it’s actually an impatien,” Betsy corrected me.

You can see I’m off to a fine start.

There was some long list about certain amount of sun, this much water now, less later.

“I left it at the base of your stairs. You might want to take it inside. Deer love to eat it like candy.”

OK, so it’s just a plant in a pot.

But now it’s an endangered rescue plant.

It matters.

Does this resonate, Dear Reader? A responsibility you didn’t plan on.

The dog abandoned at the end of the road.

The kid born to parents who weren’t equipped to take care of them.

The work project associates dumped in your lap.

The responsibility you didn’t ask for.

Is this going to blossom into some wonderful opportunity, some new gardening passion?

Or will I be submitting photos to an impatiens grief group?

Time will tell.

The email box is open to any tips from you green thumbs. No pressure or anything. A life is at stake.