A co-worker gifted me this Amaryllis bulb when I worked in our main office building several years ago. It came to me in a paper box ready to be planted. If I recall correctly, it did bloom that first year, but in the many years since, it never did again. Each year it would sprout its long, arching leaves without a bloom to slowly hang on for what seemed like months until they eventually would fall away and whither against the sides of the pot.
Not knowing any better, the second or third year, I cut the leaves away when they faded. It seemed like the right thing to do for it then, but I’ve since learned that it needs those leaves, bloom or no bloom, as it recycles its energy into its bulb for the next period of growth.
The photo above was taken 6 days ago (only the second time I’ve seen a bud at all). And as of today it’s shot up over a foot tall. It was storing up all that energy in its large bulb all this time just for this moment. It’s almost as though it’s reaching up and demanding to be seen.
I’ve started turning the planter (it’s roughly the size of a basketball, the pot) each day to try to correct how far to one direction the bud is growing towards the light of the nearby window.
What a wonderful gift this continues to be. I’d reluctantly accepted that I’d done something irreparable and it would never bloom again. But all this time, hidden under the soil, it was slowly and tenaciously living on and preparing for the chance to flower once more.