The Charlie Brown Bougainvillea

Before moving into my home in the jungle, I lived in a tiny cabin in the village for over a year. A one-room cinder-block rectangle painted bright orange, I heated my dishwater on the diminutive stove and most of the kitchen was outside. The bathroom while not pretty was functional.

For some reason, I was very happy there, most likely because the garden was so darn enchanting.

Two varieties of banana trees, explosive sprays of vivid bougainvilleas, elegant palms, huge succulents cascading lazily out of big clay pots, the whole thing artfully planted in a way such that people walking by often missed it. It was like a little bit of jungle in the middle of town.

When I moved to the jungle for realsies, I knew I wanted to re-create this lush feeling on my bare dirt plot of land and as soon as it made sense to start planting, I headed to the vivero.

With only two carloads - including a few baby banana trees - and my kids’ kindness (and muscles), many plants were arranged around the periphery of the land. It looked pretty sparse, nothing like the magical garden of the little cabin but I was told to let the coming rain season do its work and watch what happened.

It was June and I headed to the States for four months. When I came back in October, it all looked different. The baby banana trees had turned into teenagers and one of them was already pregnant with a bunch of bananas. I could even see, right next to its trunk, two new banana trees sprouting up from the ground. Wow… I didn’t know at all how that worked! The small pot of basil I had bought from my neighbor the day before leaving had seeded itself and there were several basil bushes sprinkled around the yard. Basil Bushes!! The bougainvilleas were showing their true colors and standing up proud. The palms were reaching their lacy leave-arms towards the sky.

It was impressive and yes, I could see how this was all going to fill in beautifully and maybe even, someday, look almost as full as the cabin’s enchanted garden.

It took just a few more months and then … I really met tropical gardening. Whereas when living in town I had not personally tended to the plants, it was now my turn to learn to trim banana leaves, cut down the trees (which I learned are actually an herb - who knew??), use leather gloves to cut back the painfully thorny bougainvilleas and make sure everyone had room to breathe and to bloom.

I LOVE it.

I was never that excited about weeding, in the States. I could never truly build a relationship with the finicky roses and even though I did grow a commercial organic herb garden many years ago, there was always something dainty that didn’t work for me.

This does. This feels like a balanced relationship. It involves machetes and knives and ladders and even this morning, as I was freeing the hibiscus from the shadow of an overly affectionate banana tree, I found myself talking to both plants and asking the banana tree if it would mind a little trim and also how was his family doing? I kid you not. Yes, growing banana trees IS like having several little families living with you. Someone is always having babies, needing a haircut or taking too much room.

Anyhoo. I love it all and now that I have been here two years, my little garden is just as full as I had hoped, it gives me lots of privacy and it certainly keeps me on my bare toes.

A couple of weeks ago, sitting on the patio as I am today writing this, I saw a spot in the corner of the casita which, I felt, needed a clay pot to house a small, tamed bougainvillea plant. The ones in the dirt are wild beasts of sheer abandon and a penchant for domination. Yes, they are beautiful, they are loud and they are bossy. Their beauty and colors make their personality worth it yet I was yearning for the same beauty … but sweet. A small, easily pruned little plant, right there in the corner.

I went to the vivero, a different one this time, and looked at all the plants they had. Bright fuschia, orange, white, pink, purple… such beauty. So much potential. Potential is my downfall. I see potential a lot. But no. I wasn’t connecting with any of them.

Then, in a corner, in a small black plastic bag, a twig. Or rather, a few twigs. No flowers, not really any sign that there would ever be flowers, and certainly no clue as to what colors these flowers would be if they ever showed up.

I asked the lady who worked there about it and she shrugged. No sé, she said.

I kneeled down, looking for some sign of life, a little bit of green. I couldn’t see any but I could feel it. Something… I felt something was going on in there.

I thought maybe I could get it at no cost or maybe a reduced price but when I enquired I was told that nope, that was the price. Same as the others.

Fine.

I bought my bag of twigs, stopped at the place next door to find it a nice beautiful simple clay pot, and off we went.

Once home, I talked to it, I placed it in its terra cotta house, I trimmed it a little bit and I watered it.

Each day I looked at it but not from close-up, somehow I sensed that it needed its privacy.
Within a week, that “something” I had felt at the vivero was stronger. I could feel it from across the patio, and I thought it would be okay for me to get closer and take a look.

And right there, looking as though it had always lived here in front of the casita, the Charlie Brown Bougainvillea had grown a tiny little leaf. A little leaf that soon turned a blush color and then a sweet, sweet orange-ish pink. Meanwhile, it was as though someone had rang a bell and said GO! Seemingly within hours new leaves/flowers showed up and a week later, there it was, the prettiest Little Charlie Brown Bougainvillea.

It’s perfect. It is calm, content, thriving. I have no idea what its outlandish cousins think of it but I can tell it is happy.

And looking at it, so am I.