There are some flowers that really take me back.
Al’s wife, Pat, the neighbor on the other side, planted some 4 o’clocks a couple of years back. Their daughter, Pamela, had found the plant at a small garden shop somewhere between her house and theirs. Pat swore it was one plant that had miraculously bloomed in about 5 different colors. I kept quiet, knowing full well the chances of that were slim at best.
Orange, yellow, pink, pink striped yellow, and deep pink.
Pat insisted I take a bag of the black seeds she was saving for me. A bag full that was enough seed to last for, well, a good number of years if not the rest of my life. I have had that bag of seeds for about 3 years now. Finally, last year, I planted a few seeds. I was hoping for yellow. But when it did bloom, it was the deep pink.
Deep pink. The very color my dad used to have.
Loved gathering the black seeds from his 4 o’clocks. Never mind the daddy-long-legs that seemed to love the plants as much as we kids did.
Along with that bag of seeds, Pat also shared an equally large bag of marigold seed. Not sure where she thought I was going to plant all of these seeds. But last year, I also had marigolds growing along the sidewalk, between the liriope.
Orange and yellow they were.
I used to take marigolds over to grandma’s house to plant on her birthday. May is such a super month for a birthday. I only did this for about 4 years, before we had to sell the house and move her away. She always said how much she loved the marigolds.
I really hope she did.