Shortly before Christmas a good friend rang our doorbell and handed me an Amaryllis. “I thought you might enjoy watching it grows,” she said.  She knew we weren’t going to have family for Christmas and wanted to make sure we would have something special on that day.  (For the record, family arrived here for festivities the day after Christmas.)  Anyway, I set the Amaryllis on the buffet until I could get it unwrapped. But, as family arrived, the Amaryllis got put aside until after New Years Day.  So, with the house quiet and January hours embracing us, I discovered the Amaryllis.  Finding it, I was delighted and opened it, placed it on our breakfast table and read the directions.
     Once actively growing, I learned I am to water it frequently. I also must turn the plant occasionally to keep it standing tall and not leaning toward the light.  This Amaryllis is gorgeous. Its pinkish-white petals remind me of a spring dawn, and the stems stand erect like stalwart soldiers. 
     The Amaryllis plant has a long history. Back in Greek times, it was termed Amarullis, and the Latin refers to a shepherdess, a lovely thing to consider.  It’s a bulbous plant and native to southern Africa. It has large lily-like reddish or white flowers, and sometimes is called the “belladonna lily.”  My Amaryllis has four stems, and each stem has a flower of five or six lily sections, that remind me of trumpets.  After blooming, the plant can be cultivated as an indoor or outdoor plant and with care, darkness, and time, bloom again. I’ve never been that successful. Generally, I put it in the garden and enjoy it as a green plant. But I digress.  What I am trying to convey is the importance of having a friend who cares, a person who knows what will delight, and who and shares.
     Speaking of sharing, my good nephew and his wife shared with us another Christmas delight—a cranberry cake that featured the taste of citrus.  We enjoyed it so much it lasted two weeks. Each morning during the Christmas season, we ate a sliver with our breakfast coffee. And then there was none, which made me know it was time to tackle making homemade bread, something I haven’t done for quite some time,  mind you not because I didn’t want to, but because the bowl I need for the project was on the top shelf of my kitchen cabinet, and I simply couldn’t get to it.
     When my friend visited, I asked how tall she was. She was two inches taller than I, so I asked her to reach up and get the bowl down. Mission accomplished, my task on these next frigid arctic blast days while watching the presidential inauguration, is to warm the yeast, measure out flour, read my mother-in–law’s recipe and begin the process.  I cannot think of a more wonderful way to pass the day because the Amaryllis graces my table, the political intrigue of presidential campaigns has been decided, and the temperature outside is below zero. Horrors. Below zero! 
     How I wish I could change things for those in California who have suffered enormous losses due to wildfires; I wish I could change things in Gaza and Israel, Haiti, Russia,  Ukraine;  and oh how I wish I could change the anger that precipitates hatred between nations. Why can’t disputes be settled with a good football game?  I like to watch a good football game. Fortunately, I have that going for me this weekend as well.