Rita Elliott

These rain lilies are survivors.- Photos by rita elliott

The news was bad. As weather forecasters on cable television were fond of repeating every other minute: "A deadly Category four hurricane is likely to be adirect hit on Jamaica." I was filled with a sense of dread.

The very morning before 'Dean's' expected landing, I toured my yard and solemnly said 'goodbye' to my trees and favourite shrubs. Suddenly, I happened upon a patch of rain lilies in full bloom. I marvelled at the sight of them, for seldom had small flowers proven to be such survivors.

My gardener, for example, doesn't believe in hand-weeding. Several times he simply turned the soil and deeply buried the tiny bulbs whenever they stopped blooming.

Slowly, the rain lilies pushed their way back to the surface. They established a new colony. Then, the vilest-looking worms, plenty of them, invaded the patch. At first, I tried to hand-pick them, but they were too numerous. I used several pesticides but the little brutes remained unperturbed. Finally, I sprayed them with a powerful product. It killed them all right. It killed the rain lilies even better. It took several seasons before a couple of buds opened up, but it was by no means a serious effort.

So I took it as a good omen that my rain lilies were back in full force; on a personal level, they proved me right!

The Day After

The day after the passage of 'Dean' I was once again in my garden when a lady materialised at my gate. She was smiling a bit too broadly and asked permission to cut some of my sterlitzias because she was doing a floral arrangement. I was about to debate the wisdom of making floral arrangements on that day, but she suddenly brandished, a long knife. A sturdy-looking one.

My heart skipped a beat and I said sternly: "You may cut seven." The woman raised her eyebrows and countered: "I will take what I get." Clearly, her tone implied that I was a miser.

I do hate hurricanes.