I do not have a green thumb. Not at all. Most of the plants that I acquire end up as shriveled messes if left entirely in my care.

A few years ago, back when I lived in Richmond, I decided to buy a plant for my patio. I chose a hydrangea bush in a pot. They’re supposedly pretty easy to care for, and there’s a little nostalgia there, too. When I was little, my grandmother would keep me while my parents worked. At her home, there were two giant hydrangeas on either side of her front porch.

The bushes are large, rounded green powder puffs, and when the flowers blossom, they look like bright powder puffs of either pink, blue, purple or white. There are some other shades occasionally as well. My grandmother’s plants always had a deep blue, almost purple, flower. I always have liked that color. So I was careful to choose a plant that appeared to be capable of a similar shade.

Sure enough, that first year I had the plant, back in 2005, it started blooming with some light blue flowers. Here’s a picture from a Round Robin Photo Challenge I did in July of that year. I enjoyed the plant, but eventually, my lack of green-thumb talent got the best of me, and, unfortunately, the worst of the little hydrangea: I had completely forgotten it was there, and by the time I stepped back out on the patio, it had shriveled and dried from a lack of water. For some reason — actually, it was nothing more than pure procrastination — I didn’t throw the apparently dead plant away. It sat in its pot, brown and ugly.

The next year, I was watering a few plants on the patio that I had managed not to kill, and I guess I had a little extra water left in the pitcher. For reasons I don’t recall, I decided I’d pour the excess into the hydrangea plant’s pot. There was nothing alive there to water, but I figured it couldn’t hurt.

Within a few days, I had an amazing site, immortalized in yet another Round Robin Photo Challenge in April of 2006. The plant came back, but it didn’t bloom. I suspect it was tired from just having resurrected itself.

Last year, I moved to Charleston and took the little plant with me. I made sure I watered it, and in the spring of 2007, it came to life again. It looked a lot like it had the year before. And there were still no blooms.

I wondered if my lack of watering had killed the little guy’s ability to generate a flower.

Earlier this year, I was in a home improvement store and I passed by what looked like a one-liter soda bottle. It contained a concentrated plant food that it claimed would guarantee colorful blooms. So I bought it and figured I’d give it a shot. Couldn’t do any harm, right?

I’m happy to report that this year, for the first time in three years, there was a bright bloom. Oddly enough, there was only one single burst of color, and it had changed from a light pale blue to a blue-lavender, which probably means something, but I have no idea what that might be.

Here’s a look at the little plant’s production.

A little fuel appears to have gone a long way. Then again, I guess we all, one way or another, at one time or another, find that we’re sort of running on empty.

Sometimes, all it takes is a little fuel to bring us back to our potential, to help us show ourselves and those around us what we can really do when we’re fully powered up.

I wish I could remember the name of that “energy drink” I bought; if I think of it, I’ll be sure to let you know.