I’ve been watching the plant for weeks as a shoot thickened. I’d been hopeful before, so many times, but the shoots never progressed beyond sprouting a slight bulge. But a few weeks ago, I was hopeful again.

I’ve come a long way as an orchid owner. I threw out the first plant I was given after its first bloom. I thought it was dying because its stem had withered.

Then I received an orchid for Mother’s Day two years ago. This one seemed worth keeping, so I learned how to water it — from the bottom and briefly, parked it in the light and hoped for the best.

Orchids are a good test of one’s patience, of a belief in the unseen. For more than two years I’ve kept the plant in fighting trim. Its leaves stay shiny and healthy and well-misted, but no serious bud emerged.

Until a few weeks ago when, almost overnight, two filmy white pockets sprouted from one of those bulging stems. I waffled about moving the plant to a more prominent location. It was happy where it had been the last many months — in a basement window, of all places — but I wouldn’t be able to enjoy it much down there.

So I brought it upstairs and put it on the kitchen table. And when I came downstairs this morning there was a papery white orchid flower. It’s a horticultural miracle for someone like me.

(I wish this was my plant — but it’s an orchid that graced my former office.)