During the warmer and drier spring days, I was finally able to return to my weekend gardening activities. Our garden remains a source of joy and a refuge. With ongoing raids in our Latino communities across Los Angeles County and beyond, it has become clear that one’s legal status offers no protection from being randomly grabbed and disappeared. No criminal record; no problem. They fabricate one: resisting arrest, assaulting an officer. It’s a numbers game: a 3000-a-day quota. Now, I’m wary about going for my scheduled yearly blood and urine tests next month. You see, my medical clinic also serves our Latino and homeless communities.

During the time I spend with our plants, I forget this crazy world I now live in. They respond to my presence, my touch, and my voice. (Yes. I talk to the plants. 😊) They care not about the color of my skin or country of origin. My neighbor’s cat, Pumpkin, couldn’t care less, either. She loves to spend time with me while I’m gardening. At the request of blogger and cat lover, Rebecca Bud at Rebecca’s Reading Room, I’m sharing the photos below of Pumpkin.

The captioned photo shows part of the plot outside my sons’ adjacent apartment. I added a yellow daisy plant this spring. So far, they’re doing well. Here’s hoping they survive the extreme summer heat. The leaves on the bottom left of the captioned photo belong to another new arrival: an Abutilon ‘Tiger Eye’ plant. My son couldn’t resist bringing it home when he first saw it at a garden center in Santa Monica. Since it likes dappled sunlight or partial shade, I placed it under the outdoor stairs in front of my sons’ apartment. It seems happy in its new home. Judging from its drooping leaves, it gets thirsty every two days.

My favorite Aeonium ‘Lily Pad’ succulent produces a more colorful flower than the Aeonium Mint, as shown in the photos below.

Mother’s Day brought two new additions to my indoor garden—the polka-dot or bunny-ear cactus and the baby rubber plant (Peperomia obtusifolia ‘Variegata’)—to replace two cacti plants that had died. All my efforts to save them failed.

During a recent visit to San Francisco, my plant-loving son fell in love with the “rare” Adenia glauca, according to the salesperson, and the shape of the leaves of the small potted gingko biloba tree. After losing four of its original leaves, Adenia (as I call her) has produced new leaves and seems contented with its new home and smiling companion. I’m not hopeful about growing a potted gingko biloba indoors, however small. It appears to be dormant but has not yet lost any of its leaves.   

Such is the nature of caring for diverse plants with differing needs for optimum growth. We humans are no different. In fact, we can be far more complicated living beings. When we are ready to put in the work of caring for each other, the benefits will brighten our days.