Oncidium — Joy
Something is different today. You can hear music — faint, tinny, coming from a paint-splattered radio balanced on an upturned pot near the door. Some old bossa nova track. The greenhouse feels lighter because of it, like even the plants are swaying a little.
Theo is at the watering station, filling a copper can from the spigot. He's bobbing his head to the rhythm. His apron today has a streak of yellow pollen across the chest, like war paint. When he sees you, he grins — actually grins, which is rare for Theo. He usually just nods.
"Good. You're here. Come look at this." No reading you today. No diagnosis. He's excited about something.
He leads you to a hanging basket near the south wall where the light comes in slanted and golden in the afternoon. The oncidium is in full bloom, and you understand the grin immediately.
They look like tiny people dancing. Dozens of small yellow blooms on branching stems, each one shaped like a figure in a wide skirt, arms thrown up, mid-spin. The slightest draft sets them trembling, and when they tremble, they dance. The whole spray moves like a party you weren't invited to but can't stop watching.
"Dancing ladies," Theo says, flicking a stem lightly so the whole cascade shivers into motion. "That's what they're called. And that's what they do. All day. For no audience. For no reason."
He leans against the bench, arms crossed, watching them settle.
"You know what the problem is with people who take things seriously? They forget that beauty is allowed to be fun. Not everything needs weight. Not every flower needs to mean something heavy." He gestures at the dancing yellow blooms. "These mean nothing except: look at us go."
He unhooks the basket and passes it to you. The stems bounce and sway with the movement.
"Bright light — she can even take some direct morning sun. Water when the pseudobulb wrinkles slightly. And for god's sake —" He turns the radio up one notch. "Lighten up."
Oncidium (Dancing Lady) — Joy
Fior Fiore Plant Shop — $0.99
Beauty can be whimsical. Not everything needs gravitas.