Sadness

Four years ago, after a seeing yellow bells all over Subic, I decided to get one for my garden. I went to Claire's Greenhearts, and got myself not just yellow bells, but purple bells as well.

Four years later the purple bells must have grown four malnourished branches, each one measuring three feet. But the yellow bells? Oooh, they fluorished in the sunshine and in the rain, draping lazily on our front fence, creeping sneakily over our side wall, prettily guarding the huge empty lot. But the 'sneaking' was short-lived. Shortly after, a big new house rose from the barren land, now protected by a 10-foot wall. Were my yellow bells disheartened? After all, their 'growth room' was now twice as high, blocking their daily playtime with the sun. And so they climbed... higher, longer, up and over the 10-foot wall, where they finally held court, basking in the all-day sun, stretching in every direction, dozens of blooms dotting the curtain of green.

Nice as they looked, my husband felt uneasy about our one of our own trespassing in the neighbor's territory. But they look good, I protested, and they made their side of the fence look good as well. But there was a bigger, less aesthetic problem: the vines had viciously made their way up, in and around the neighbor's main power line, and would pose an electrical problem in no time. And he was right. After all, he'd seen the neighboor eyeing the yellow bells in a not-so-appreciative way a few times. And so we sent the maid to tell the neighbor's gardener to feel free to trim the traspassing vines should they really get in the way. But for many more months, the yellow bells still bloomed in full glory, their overstaying status simply ignored.

And then last Thursday morning it happened. First to go were their Japanese bamboo, their bouganvillas, and then MY precious yellow bells---all limbs that grew over the wall, 'round the post and up the dapdap tree. I ate my breakfast in deep sadness.

The next day I sent Claire a text message about the amputation of the yellow bells. She texted back a word that summed up the mood and tone of the entire experience. "Condolence."