Wlliamson: Encouraging seeds of hope to blossom

This week marks the completion of my fourth year of writing this column. While I never lack for topics, sometimes — especially in weeks that involve devastating flooding, the bombing of a Doctors Without Borders hospital, and yet another school shooting — writing “a bit of good news” feels a little like spitting into the wind.

As I was mulling this over Monday morning, I received a text message from my daughter that said, “Plant the seeds that are pinned to my corkboard.”

link Betty Williamson

A bit of good news

Those seeds are Texas bluebonnets, a gift from Nathan Dahlstrom, an author who grew up in Floyd and now lives in Lubbock writing under the pen name S.J. Dahlstrom.

Nathan visited the Portales Public Library in July and passed out tiny white paper envelopes of bluebonnet seeds to all who came by that day, with instructions to plant them in early October.

I was hesitant to take any for the following reasons:

• It seemed unfair to waste seeds on someone with a flower-growing reputation as dismal as mine;

• I knew it was highly unlikely that I would remember to plant something three months down the road; and

• Even if I did remember when planting time came, I doubted I would be able to find them. (My ability to keep track of small objects is on par with my ability to grow flowers.)

My oh-so-organized offspring took oversight of the project, clearing a corner of her bulletin board for the seed packet, and then somehow telling her smart phone to remind her to notify me when it was time to put them in the ground.

Various garden sources told me that these little hard-as-rock seeds are notoriously difficult to start. I read that some growers recommend that the seeds be “scarified.” That was a new word to me. It comes from the root word “scar” not “scare,” and it’s the act of scratching or nicking the tough external coating of a seed to enhance its ability to germinate.

As I planted my 35 bluebonnet seeds, it occurred to me that scarifying is not unlike what I try to do in this column each week. Maybe a few optimistic words will encourage seeds of hope to sprout. With luck, some might even blossom.

Will I have bluebonnets in the spring? I don’t know. But today I have the potential for bluebonnets, and that is enough for me.

Betty Williamson believes planting bluebonnets in eastern New Mexico is an act of extreme optimism. You may reach her at [email protected]