I must have flowers, always, and always.
― Claude Monet
Natasha is camping this week and I have chosen to stay behind with the furry kids. We are still somewhat discombobulated from the move to a new place, mostly schedule-wise and remembering where everything is in the kitchen. Luckily, I know the refrigerator and Gibbs still knows the smell of chicken.
Before Natasha left, we spent time shopping for patio flowers. We are behind schedule, or at least I am. I normally have something potted on the patio by mid-May, regardless of the warning to wait until Memorial Day for the Zone 4 plantaholics. This year, we are definitely past the point of frost and planting waits for us like an impatient husband.
Flowers have been purchased in lovely shades of pink, yellow, white and purple, those that prefer a more shady spot. The flower boxes and garden accessories will be retrieved from storage on Friday. The planting party will commence on Sunday or Monday, after Natasha’s return from the north woods. And then we shall sing the song of life and talk to them ever so gently. Grow, little flowers, grow!
Last year, Natasha had what she called “Jumanji” – an overgrown jungle of lobelia, impatiens, and crawling vines. It was most assuredly the jungle, attracting pollenating bees and praises from the neighbors. I was a bit jealous…the flowers on my patio were far less prolific. I blame the westward facing patio, sandwiched in between two buildings, that only allowed the hardiest of heat tolerant foliage. While Natasha had “Jumanji,” I had “Empire of the Sun” – although the pansies seemed to enjoy their empire.
I’m looking forward to the planting, watering, dead-heading, watering, growing, and watering during the summer months. Flowers bring joy to my psyche. Digging in the dirt with bare hands is akin to having a hot stone massage on a cold winter’s day – relaxing, comforting, euphoric even. So, then, there’s no surprise when Natasha called me from the campground late Sunday afternoon and the conversation went thus.
“Where are you?”
I’m at the garden store, standing in the midst of flowers. Lots of pretty flowers.
“Are you buying more flowers? Don’t we have enough flowers?”
Yes, but that doesn’t stop me from looking at them. (I’m not only the crazy cat lady, but the crazy flower lady as well.)
“Well, don’t buy any.” (Yes mom!)
Nope, not going to, they are too expensive here.
The conversation turned elsewhere and I wandered back through the aisles of flowers to the car without buying even one teeny tiny pink flora being. We do have enough flowers, but it really doesn’t hurt to look. It’s gardening foreplay in a therapeutic sense (that’s what I tell myself). I can hardly wait until Natasha gets back, so that we can get started on this year’s “Jumanji”. Will it all grow to epic proportions? Or be a distant cousin to the jungle?
It doesn’t matter because I simply must have flowers.
Pretty, pretty flowers.