Lazarus



The dead shall walk again. Or bloom, at least.

I bought a mallow plant at the beginning of the summer.  At least, I believe that's what they are called. I'm referring to those gorgeous, dinner-plate sized blossoms that you see in people's yards around this time of year. They look ike a giant hibiscus (and are probably in the same family), and I have always wanted one.  So I bought one at Pettengill's earlier this summer, with dreams of these gorgeous blossoms gracing my yard.

The woodchucks decided that mallow meant marshmallow, and felt that this was the most delicious plant they had ever eaten.  What had originally been a lush, thriving plant was chewed down to toothpicks.  I was not pleased. 

Now, for some reason, they are leaving it alone.  Probably not enough to floss with at this point. But because of that, my little friend has made a come back.  I thought it was more than dead, so to see this quarter-sized blossom really tickles me. I named it Lazarus, even though I think it's a girl. And for all those of you who skipped Bible class, Lazarus rose from the dead, thanks to a miracle being performed on his behalf. I'm not sure what the miracle was in this case, but this baby just isn't going down without a fight. 

And yes, I need to pull that grass out that is hiding behind it.