Thinking Out Loud
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If our destiny stems from our name, then I weep for the flower named Wilt.
Jarod Kintz
Every year I say I'm going to cut down on the amount of flowers I buy to plant and hang around my home. It's too much money and too much work. It's a crap shoot in Michigan with weather.
One recent summer, during a week of monsoon rains, my flowers spent so much time huddled together under the patio umbrella in an effort to protect them from wind and hail, the glass top cracked under the weight of what were basically just saturated mud pots.
Inevitably, I will be gone the week we experience blistering heat, when thirsty flowers will need watering twice a day.
I have a teenage son, I'm lucky if he'll remember twice during the week to do it. I've come home to once beautiful garden pots that had shriveled and dried up in Mohave-esque protest and demanded an immediate funeral.
So Spring 2014, what do you know?...You guessed it.
This year I was sucked in again by all the beautiful colors of nature's candies and I have the aching back to tell you, it WAS a lot of work.
But, did you ever notice how much better ice cold lemonade tastes while sitting at your patio set surrounded by explosions of blooms?
Me too.
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Diane Szczepanski |
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