But here's the thing...I don't even like to eat chives.
This plant survived our move from Utah to Washington in 2008, and I gave it to my mom then because I knew I wouldn't use it. I forgot all about it. A couple years later, I was out on my mom's porch, and I saw that little chive plant, still thriving. I was so inspired by the plucky little plant; I took it back to my apartment with me. It's been with me ever since.
The next spring, it blossomed. (Okay, it might have blossomed before that. I wouldn't even know.) It had maybe four or five flowers on it. Last spring, it had a dozen flowers. This spring, it looks like this:
This photo was taken about a month ago. I've eaten--and loved--some of the blossoms, and I've clipped some and put them in a vase on our kitchen table, and the plant just keeps blossoming. It's turning yellow now; I think it's outgrown its pot. It may die. I don't have a bigger pot for it; besides that, we'll probably be moving this summer, and it's too big to take with me.
I don't really have a point for telling you all this. Maybe as a symbol of what this summer could be--letting go of some things that have been with me for a while. I heard Julie B. Beck say once that life is a series of losses, but that the important things stay with us. I keep telling myself that. I might lose my chive plant, for example, in the changes that could be happening soon, and I'll feel a little pang about that. But that's nothing compared to what will always stay with me--family, friendships, the gospel. And that makes the losses easier to bear.



















