Photo by Michael J. Gallegos

Arthur De Volder, published author, former woodworker and retired assistant dean of library studies at the University of New Mexico.

Photo by Michael J. Gallegos

Two hibiscus flowers De Volder started with 10 years ago have multiplied through the years. Each November, he digs some up and offers them to friends.

More Viewfinder

• Viewfinder: The Rubik's con
• Viewfinder: Why I love it
• Viewfinder: What fun it is to ride and ski . . .

MOST RECENT TRIB STORIES

• ABQTrib.com to remain available
  08:48 a.m., February 25, 2008
• Congressman is indicted
  08:37 a.m., February 23, 2008
• Series of attacks target Green Zone
  08:36 a.m., February 23, 2008
• Iran is defying U.N., agency says
  08:35 a.m., February 23, 2008
• Waterboarding approval probed
  08:34 a.m., February 23, 2008

TRIB IN THE BLOGOSPHERE*

• Ty Murray Invitational thrills fans in Albuquerque
• Is Rome Burning?
• Ominous Skies
• The Road to Invalidation
• Albuquerque company participates in “Extreme Makeover: Home Edition”

*Note: The Tribune does not create and is not responsible for the blogosphere's headlines and stories. These links to blogs talking about ABQTrib.com are automatically generated. Use them at your own risk.

STORY TOOLS

• E-mail story
• Comments
• iPod friendly
• Printer friendly

SHARE THIS STORY [?]

Arthur De Volder, published author, former woodworker and retired assistant dean of library studies at the University of New Mexico, turned 89 last week.

He moves around his yard a lot more slowly these days. The garden tools look as though they haven't been touched in a while. With his kids grown and out of the house, the memories of his late wife, Jean, keep him company.

Recently, De Volder stopped going to his weekly senior citizen dance at the Highland Senior Center. His legs don't work as well as they used to.

"For the last three months I was going just to watch, but I had to stop," he said. "It's just too heartbreaking to see all my friends dancing around and know that I can't do something that I really love anymore."

De Volder doesn't complain. He says he has had a good life. "Besides, I have my hibiscus flowers," he said. "They have been my love for the last couple of years."

The two small plants he started with 10 years ago have multiplied through the years. Each November, he digs some up and offers them to friends. His kindness and their beauty have spread throughout the city. They touched me this summer.

I remember my wife, Nancy, insisting I keep watering the woody root, a gift from De Volder, a man I only knew as my in-laws' best friend.

"What is this thing," I thought.

I found out last week when I peeked out my window and saw the 10-inch white flower taking over the corner of my garden. Hibiscus, the state flower of Hawaii. I didn't think it could grow in the desert.

"Must be all the volcanic ash in the soil," De Volder said. It was only a guess.

The bloom only lasts a day and then dies off. It produces a number of buds, and when one dies, another takes over. Even though each flower looks the same, I can't help but take another photo of the new one.

I see the passing flower as a mirror of life, a beautiful thing that doesn't last forever, something that must be enjoyed to the fullest. Now when I see another hibiscus bloom, I can't help but think of Art De Volder, a man I met for only a short time but will remember forever.