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For years and years I've wanted to grow nasturtiums.  They are very cheery orange flowers with round perky leaves that show up in huge glorious clusters.  I met some of these flowers on a perfectly beautiful Sunday when I was about twelve years old and I remember sharing some quiet moments with them.  Sunbeams hit the orange petals, illuminated them, and released their faint spicy scent into the air and up to my nose.  It was so lovely and peaceful.  There were other flowers in that yard, but I only recall the nasturtiums.  I decided that when I grew up I was going to plant some of my own.

Since that day whenever I see those orange flowers, I feel happy.  I can always spot their distinctive leaves and know that later on the bright orange petals will begin popping out.  I imagine them growing and trailing and climbing for years and years with no effort.  Getting bigger and more beautiful with time.  These flowers bring me the greatest delight.  The ones that have been quietly growing for years over fences and tree stumps and not caring what happens in the rest of the world.  They just grow. 

The years roll by and one day I finally have a house with my own dirt.  Finally I will keep my promise to myself and grow my flowers.  I buy myself a big packet of nasturtium seeds.  It stays in the garage next to a perfectly clean little shovel.  The bright orange picture fades more and more until I regrettably throw the dusty packet away.  More years go by.  I never set foot in the backyard.  

I still keep thinking about it, but never take any action.  For some reason I once again decide that I will really do it this time.  I buy several new packets of seeds, plus I buy some nasturtium seedlings to encourage myself.  I will plant them in the same place so I won't have to be disappointed when the seeds don't sprout. 

For many days I stare out my window and premeditate their placement.  I decide on a spot that I can see from both my office and the tiny bathroom window.  I usually only open that window for ventilation, not to take in the scenery.  I wait for the perfect day to come.  It always seems too windy, too foggy, too sunny, too early, or too late to plant.  The seedlings start to droop.  I need to get them into the ground soon.  Tomorrow, I promise. 

I wake up and ready myself for the challenge, determined to actually go through with it this time.  I put on sunscreen even though it's overcast and windy.  Before I can talk myself out of it, I toss all my supplies into a plastic grocery bag and head out to the untouched backyard.  The wind whips through my hair and slams the gate shut behind me.  Why am I bothering?  

I find my plot of land, scratch into the dirt, move a few weeds out of the way, and drop the seeds into the open space.  The seeds are huge.  They look like garbanzo beans.  I'm disappointed because there are only a few in each envelope.  Next, I stuff the plants into the holes I've scooped for them.  I toss some Supersoil over them, slide the old dirt on top, pat them down with my feet.  The hose can barely stretch out to reach the planting sites.  I turn the water on, mimic a brief rainstorm, then pick up the shovel, torn seed packets and my bag of dirt and go back inside the house whispering "Now you plants are on your own".

The next day it clouds over.  I hope for rain so I won't have to go out there and water those plants again.  It never rained.  I drag the hose out there again the next day and inefficiently sprinkle the dirt with bursts of water.  For the next few weeks the weather teases me with clouds that seem like they might deliver some water.  I worry about my little plants much more than I water them.  Why did I sentence them to death?  Why did I put them out there knowing I would not take care of them?  Maybe the wind will whip them up out of the shallow dirt, maybe the gophers will eat the roots, maybe they will get tired of waiting for water and just shrivel up. Will they make it?  I do not help them very much.  Do I really need to?  Finally it rains and I relax a little. 

Every day I peer out at the tiny clump of green leaves from a distance.  I imagine these plants spreading out with the magic of time.  I feel impatient.  I expect too much of these poor little plants too soon.  I get mad at myself for not planting them sooner so they already would have clocked in eight years.  I try not to become too attached, fearing that they will wither and die soon.  But a small sliver of hope remains in my heart that on their own they will transform my ugly backyard into an overgrown fantasy garden some day.

I watch through the rain and plan to tend to them after it dries.  When it's sunny I decide to wait until late afternoon so I won't get sunburned.  Another night falls without me setting foot on the soil.  Tomorrow, I promise.  The sun sets on them again.  I check out my window and the little leaves are still there.  For now.  I look out at them and sigh.  I don't deserve to have them because of my lack of effort.  I shake my head at myself.  I feel like I don't really deserve to look at their little leaves any more if I'm not going to at least water them.  But they are right there where I can't miss them.  So I look and shrug my shoulders and don't even bother to write "water plants" on my to-do list any more. 

I continue on with my life and actively ignore the innocent leaves and one morning I wake up and look out and see an orange spot among them.  I stare hard to see if it's a flower or just my imagination.  I can't tell, it's too far away.  It can't be blooming, it's almost winter.  I wait a day.  The orange spot remains.  I finally break down and tramp through the weeds out to the site to inspect this orange thing.  Yes, it is a teeny nasturtium blossom.  That I grew myself.   I am so happy I can hardly stand it.  I run back and grab the hose and pull it as far as it will go so I can water my new flower.  I laugh at it because it doesn't know that it's not supposed to bloom yet.  

I keep peeking out the window every day as the flower grows into its full beauty.  Two or three others soon keep it company.  I must have done something right.  Maybe they will make it.  The blooms fade after a while, but the leaves remain through the winter soaking up the rain and absorbing the little bit of sun that shines here.

Now it is officially Spring.  The nasturtiums are still alive.  From my window I can see the new crop of flowers.  Two huge blossoms.  Hopefully there will be lots more to come this season and next.   

I look at these glorious flowers surrounded by their cute green leaves every morning and I smile and wait for the years to go by and for the plants to begin trailing over the fence, covering my whole yard with bright orange flowers.