Gladiola bulbs in my front yard shoot up green spearlike leaves every summer, but they don’t bloom every year. Many years, the leaves are all I get. But when they do bloom, the tall salmon-colored flowers outshine everything in the garden.
We childless women are like those gladiolas. Unlike the poppies that consistently fill my garden every summer and fall and are now blooming from the cracks in my driveway and hanging out over the sidewalk, the gladiolas rarely reproduce. Perhaps it’s because I’m a negligent gardener or because the weather is too intense here. I get one bloom per plant and then it disappears, but oh that flower is special.
Maybe the book I’m reading, Radical Acceptance: Embracing Your Life with the Heart of a Buddha, has influenced my thoughts today, but I find myself content with things as they are. My life, although different from that of most people, a puzzle to my family and friends, is exactly what it was meant to be. I have never followed the usual path, and that’s okay.
Instead of bemoaning our lack of children, let us consider that you and I are gladiolas, unique and glorious all by ourselves.
4 thoughts on “Gladiola among the poppies”
I really like your image of childless women as gladiolas. And am interested in the book you are writing on childless women. My novel, Swimming which has just been published explores childlessness. http://www.enzagandolfo.com
I really like your image of childless women as gladiolas. In the garden reproduction is not the only thing of value.
It was rather interesting for me to read this blog. Thanx for it. I like such topics and everything that is connected to them. I would like to read a bit more soon.
As I sit here visualizing the full fields of gladiolas that’d line the freeway of my childhood city, I can’t help but think Enza’s comment. Even though untended gladiolas may not reproduce as well, they still serve a purpose as well as the producing gladiolas, photosynthasis, which is absolutely necessary for life to continue. 🙂