Chasing Fireflies by Charles Martin

Author:Charles Martin [Martin, Charles]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 1595540563
Google: PsSVPwAACAAJ
Amazon: B00194D6PC
Publisher: Thomas Nelson
Published: 2008-01-02T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter 20

--'e strolled over to the greenhouse and found the light on and Sketch sitting up on a converted bar stool. His feet were nearly two feet off the ground. Unc stood off to one side, pointing out orchids and explaining how old they were, how long he'd had them, where they grow, and how they grow. I don't know how many he's got growing in that house, but I'd say it's close to two hundred.

"There are about thirty thousand species of these things, and it's not exactly right to call them plants, 'cause they don't grow in soil. Orchids grow mostly in trees or strange places. They need bark to grow, not dirt. They need water-constant water-but not too much. Too much drowns the roots, too little dries them up. They need light, but you don't want to scorch them. Shade helps, too. They need fertilizer-that's a fancy name for plant food. And they need air. You give them those things, and an orchid can grow most anywhere. Side of a tree, top of a house. Orchids can be fragile, but they can also be tough as nails."

He walked to the other end of the greenhouse and tied a small piece of rope around the stem of one that had leaned too far from its bamboo support. "All they need is a reason." He returned and leaned against the countertop. "They like mild temperatures, not extreme hot or cold." He leaned in close. "Some even smell ... like chocolate, raspberry, lilac, or citrus. It varies."

He turned on a faucet underneath his bench. The faucet fed into a series of PVC pipes that ran around the interior of the greenhouse like a great maze. The pipes turned and twisted, hugging the contours of the house. Every so often a smaller tube ran out of a larger tube, then fed into an even smaller rubber tube that Unc had laid across the root system of his orchids. When the faucet was on, it spilled small amounts of water across the roots.

"No matter what anybody tells you, the key is water. More heat, more water. Less heat, less water."

He walked back near the door, where he had moved all those that were blooming. Around the door was a plethora of purple, red, white, and even light blue blooms in all shapes and sizes.

"If you spend some time with them, take care of their roots, give 'em a good place to live where they feel safe, and give 'em just the right amount of water"-he ran his finger along a stem with twenty or thirty blooms-"they'll burst out in color and amaze you. 'Cause that's what they do ... they bloom. A bird in the rain forest will eat a seed, then crap as it's flying over the canopy. That will settle in the fork of a tree some hundred feet off the jungle floor below, and yet that orchid will take root. It digs in, grows up, out, and blooms for all the world to see.

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