You may have heard Dallas had this little thing called “Snowmageddon” way back in February.

For really big, horrible s**t in Texas? We call a “little thing,” which is the equivalent to “bless her heart,” but for meteorological events.


We made it through, but we all held our breath because spring down South either starts February 17 or April 28, and we Southerners love our plants.  We go plant crazy every dang year—going to Calloway’s nursery and standing in line for two hours (spoiler alert: #iveactuallydonethat)


I have spoken in the past of my brown thumb, but I love plants and trees.  I just suck at caring for them.


It’s kind of like when my kid asks me to sew a hole in their shirt and I shoot back a “Mommy only sews human skin.”


And we know why they’ll be in therapy soon.


I’ve found the best way to deal with plants is…not to deal with plants. Leave them the F alone.


And that’s what we were told to do this spring…don’t count any plant dead for several more weeks. (it’s like the old adage from drowning in frozen pond trauma: they ain’t dead unless they warm and dead).


Every day, I went out and spoke to the trees like a slightly taller, less hairy Lorax.  Come on little dudes, I would whisper. Also because digging up these bushes called Indian Hawthorne would require chains and a tow truck to get them out of the ground.  Deep roots.


Our big Bradford pears bloomed right away—we laugh at your 8 inches of snow, they chortled.


The Chinese Pistache trees seemed to most horrified to return.  Is it safe? they wondered. Hell, I don’t know trees—we had a pandemic and now a freak blizzard in Zone 8? I don’t know!!!


But give them time.  Everyone said give them time.

The past year has taught me more patience, in fact, the pandemic–and life–demanded it.


I’m not known for being the most patient woman, although I do wait about 47 minutes for my 8-year-old boy to finish pooping so I can get into the bathroom.  So men and recreational pooping has to be genetic, right? Life’s questions solved right here.


So I waited. And I waited. And I sneaked a peek. And waited. And talked to the trees. And waited.


The next day (or was it the next, next day?), there was a swelling at the end of the tips—so I gently pulled the branch a bit lower to me to look and sure as shoot (another Texas saying) there was a bud starting to form.


I looked up and (cue epic music) everyone’s trees were in varying states of TRYING to bloom. Some shot out fresh green branches right away.  Some crape myrtles were already trying to outdo the stalks from last year.  Some seemed delayed.  Some still had nothing.


But then all of the sudden, the ones who had been slow to start—SPROUTED and blossomed the most beautiful of all…They were just LATE BLOOMERS!  And I’m so glad…and I cherished these trees all the more because of their GUMPTION.


You know where I’m going with this…


It’s like when Mulan’s dad said, “”My, my, what beautiful blossoms we have this year. But look! This one’s late. But I’ll bet that when it blooms, it will be the most beautiful of all.”


Author Malcolm Gladwell (love him and his quirky Bob Ross ‘do) wrote an entire New Yorker article on the late bloomer.  How some people BLOSSOM AND THRIVE later in life.  I love the article so much I’ve attached a link here


Our society perpetuates the idea that women succeed in youth. But here’s the thing, my darling: most women accomplish far more in their later years than their early ones.

I feel that’s totally true for me, too.

I truly believe this can happen for all women, and I love to see it come to life…


Here’s a short list of women who blossomed later—

  • Mother Theresa
  • Julia Child
  • Anna Mary Robertson Moses (a.k.a. Grandma Moses)
  • Dr. Ruth Westheimer
  • Susan Boyle
  • Louisa May Alcott
  • Phyllis Diller
  • Viola Davis
  • Sheryl Crow
  • Vera Wang
  • Toni Morrison
  • Jane Lynch
  • Kathy Bates
  • Ina Garten

I mean seriously, there’s several Academy Award winning actresses, singers, comedians, two of the best chefs on the planet and even a SAINT.

A woman’s (and a tree’s) blossoming should be celebrated at any age, but sister…if your leaves and buds are just now blooming…go for it.  Be patient and watch for the buds to sprout. Don’t let that blizzard called LIFE freeze you out!

Now that ain’t no little thing!



Dr. B

See? I’m just getting started… 😉🌷