Digressions: My Life in 500 Words or Less

There is something to be said for familiarity.

For the past dozen years or so, I have been reminded of that truth each June. Along with the arrival of spring, blooms appear on the hibiscus beside our house, usually around June. The blooms are white and lilac with deep red centers.

We have lived in our Elizabethtown home since October 2008, and that hibiscus has been there the entire time. It is fairly inconspicuous among the plentiful vegetation around the property until the blooms appear.

Those blooms burst forth from the green collection of leaves in the area in eye-catching beauty that adds much-needed color there. It makes us smile, too.

In recent years, branches from that hibiscus have edged to our kitchen window. Last year it was as if the bloom’s face was pressing against the window pane to peek inside our home, my sweetie, Rebecca, told me.

I had to agree.

While neither Rebecca nor I have done any maintenance on the plant other than an occasional trim, it seems to have thrived very well. It has never failed to produce those beautiful blooms, often in a profuse display.

Some call that specific type of hibiscus Rose of Sharon. Some might have other names for it. Whatever you call it, it has made its annual appearance like clockwork.

An old idiom says “Familiarity breeds contempt.”

In this case, that idiom does not apply.

In this case that familiar beauty is something I look forward to each year.