Most of our indoor plants were originally cuttings from my mom's yard, which is a jungle of many, many different plants that do well in her coastal LA climate. Every now and then one of the migrants in our house puts on a show. The Poor Man's Orchid (that's the name I've always known it by, but I think it's some type of bromiliad) is now in the final stages of blooming. These two pictures show a little bit of the emergence of the flowers over the last two weeks.
The pink spike appears one day when I'm watering and eventually the buds come out, drop, and open.
I'm afraid my photos don't do it justice.
But having these plants here in Anchorage means I have a part of my mom here with us all the time. We have other plants from my mother-in-law, who is no longer alive, but the plants, which thrive mean she too is always with us.
And we have a big mountain ash in front of the house that my son planted when it was barely more than a twig.