Memory & Flowers

Anne here, taking a wander through the garden and considering the way so many flowers and fragrances evoke other times, other people. Many of the plants in my garden have come from cuttings or plant divisions or gifts from other people's gardens, and as well as bringing their own beauty and scent to my garden, they evoke memories of those people, some of whom are long gone. Daphne

My daphne is a little bit sick at the moment, and I'm very anxious about it. It grew from a cutting descended from a cutting taken from the daphne that grew in my grandmother's garden many years ago. My mum saved the plant and took cuttings and gave them to friends and family. I adore the scent of daphne, and now every time I smell that divine smell, I think of Nan and Mum. Let's hope I can cure my plant of whatever ails it.

My gardenia came from a cutting from the mother of one of my oldest school friends. She had a wonderful gardenia bush that flowered prolifically every year.

Gardenias

I must have mentioned at some stage how much I loved the scent of gardenias because she never forgot it. Her husband was a very important man, but each year when the gardenia came into flower, she'd make up a beautiful little packet of them, sealed in cellophane, and make him detour on his way to work to drop it off at my place — even when I was living in a shabby student share-house. My gardenia is from a cutting from her plant, and each year when it flowers, I think of Winnie.

My godmother had a lovely garden, but she liked things to be very neat and tidy. One of the banes of her garden were the bluebells that would pop up all over the garden each year. She loved the blue, but "Oh they're messy plants," she'd mutter. Not only would they appear in beds where she hadn't planted them, their leaves, once the flowering had finished, looked so untidy, just lying there. 

I was visiting one time when she was ripping out bluebell bulbs, grumping away, and I filled a supermarket bag. She warned me that I'd rue the day, but I never have. I like a messy garden, and I've planted them in the various houses I've lived in since, and I dug up some each time I moved. This photo isn't of my garden, but of a friend's. Her bluebells are much longer established than mine, and put on a glorious show every year. Moi'sGarden

One of my neighbors has a fuchsia very like one that my grandmother had. Hers was near the back door and being an evil child, I loved to pop those fat white buds and watch the purply-red flowers with the little ballerina feet emerge. And of course if I was ever caught — and I was, several times — Nan would read me the riot act, and there would be some kind of punishment. Now whenever I pass that kind of old-fashioned fuchsia, I still itch to pop them — but I don't. Nan would be proud. Maybe.

When I was twelve, my elder sister got married and in her bouquet she had creamy frangipani (plumeria) flowers. Being from the colder southern part of Australia, I'd never seen them before— they're more of a tropical plant — but I fell in love with them and their delicate scent. Ever since I've tried to grow them. Only once have I been blessed with a flower — but hope springs eternal. Frangipani2

I'm lucky to have a garden, I know, but even those who don't have a garden can have strong feelings about flowers — you don't have to grow them to love them. They say scent is the most powerfully evocative of the senses.

Are there any flowers or plants that you associate with other people or other times? Do you have a favorite flower or plant? What are its associations for you?

190 thoughts on “Memory & Flowers”

  1. My grandmother had a lilac hedge where I played a lot as a child (it was big enough to hide inside) so lilacs always remind me of her, especially as they usually flower around her birthday in May (her name was Mai). She also grew sweet peas and I plant some every year – love their scent!

    Reply
  2. My grandmother had a lilac hedge where I played a lot as a child (it was big enough to hide inside) so lilacs always remind me of her, especially as they usually flower around her birthday in May (her name was Mai). She also grew sweet peas and I plant some every year – love their scent!

    Reply
  3. My grandmother had a lilac hedge where I played a lot as a child (it was big enough to hide inside) so lilacs always remind me of her, especially as they usually flower around her birthday in May (her name was Mai). She also grew sweet peas and I plant some every year – love their scent!

    Reply
  4. My grandmother had a lilac hedge where I played a lot as a child (it was big enough to hide inside) so lilacs always remind me of her, especially as they usually flower around her birthday in May (her name was Mai). She also grew sweet peas and I plant some every year – love their scent!

    Reply
  5. My grandmother had a lilac hedge where I played a lot as a child (it was big enough to hide inside) so lilacs always remind me of her, especially as they usually flower around her birthday in May (her name was Mai). She also grew sweet peas and I plant some every year – love their scent!

    Reply
  6. Christina Courtenay’s story reminded me of my great aunt who was like a grandmother to me. In her garden she too had a huge lilac bush that was so large us kids would hide in it – until a huge owl took up residency there. I love the smell of lilacs. But the flower that reminds me most of this aunt is the peony. She loved them dearly.
    My personal favorite is the hibiscus. I love them not just for their beauty, but because they attract butterflies and hummingbirds.
    Lovely post.

    Reply
  7. Christina Courtenay’s story reminded me of my great aunt who was like a grandmother to me. In her garden she too had a huge lilac bush that was so large us kids would hide in it – until a huge owl took up residency there. I love the smell of lilacs. But the flower that reminds me most of this aunt is the peony. She loved them dearly.
    My personal favorite is the hibiscus. I love them not just for their beauty, but because they attract butterflies and hummingbirds.
    Lovely post.

    Reply
  8. Christina Courtenay’s story reminded me of my great aunt who was like a grandmother to me. In her garden she too had a huge lilac bush that was so large us kids would hide in it – until a huge owl took up residency there. I love the smell of lilacs. But the flower that reminds me most of this aunt is the peony. She loved them dearly.
    My personal favorite is the hibiscus. I love them not just for their beauty, but because they attract butterflies and hummingbirds.
    Lovely post.

    Reply
  9. Christina Courtenay’s story reminded me of my great aunt who was like a grandmother to me. In her garden she too had a huge lilac bush that was so large us kids would hide in it – until a huge owl took up residency there. I love the smell of lilacs. But the flower that reminds me most of this aunt is the peony. She loved them dearly.
    My personal favorite is the hibiscus. I love them not just for their beauty, but because they attract butterflies and hummingbirds.
    Lovely post.

    Reply
  10. Christina Courtenay’s story reminded me of my great aunt who was like a grandmother to me. In her garden she too had a huge lilac bush that was so large us kids would hide in it – until a huge owl took up residency there. I love the smell of lilacs. But the flower that reminds me most of this aunt is the peony. She loved them dearly.
    My personal favorite is the hibiscus. I love them not just for their beauty, but because they attract butterflies and hummingbirds.
    Lovely post.

    Reply
  11. What a magical garden you have, Anne! I particularly like your story of the gardenias. They have an exquisite scent, and your mother’s friend sending them to you every year was definitely magic!
    I’m another who loves lilacs and their scent–we had a massive lilac bush beside our driveway. Since I grew up fairly far north, it was well into June when they bloomed. One could get drunk on that fragrance!

    Reply
  12. What a magical garden you have, Anne! I particularly like your story of the gardenias. They have an exquisite scent, and your mother’s friend sending them to you every year was definitely magic!
    I’m another who loves lilacs and their scent–we had a massive lilac bush beside our driveway. Since I grew up fairly far north, it was well into June when they bloomed. One could get drunk on that fragrance!

    Reply
  13. What a magical garden you have, Anne! I particularly like your story of the gardenias. They have an exquisite scent, and your mother’s friend sending them to you every year was definitely magic!
    I’m another who loves lilacs and their scent–we had a massive lilac bush beside our driveway. Since I grew up fairly far north, it was well into June when they bloomed. One could get drunk on that fragrance!

    Reply
  14. What a magical garden you have, Anne! I particularly like your story of the gardenias. They have an exquisite scent, and your mother’s friend sending them to you every year was definitely magic!
    I’m another who loves lilacs and their scent–we had a massive lilac bush beside our driveway. Since I grew up fairly far north, it was well into June when they bloomed. One could get drunk on that fragrance!

    Reply
  15. What a magical garden you have, Anne! I particularly like your story of the gardenias. They have an exquisite scent, and your mother’s friend sending them to you every year was definitely magic!
    I’m another who loves lilacs and their scent–we had a massive lilac bush beside our driveway. Since I grew up fairly far north, it was well into June when they bloomed. One could get drunk on that fragrance!

    Reply
  16. My military family moved to South America when I was 11 (Paraguay) and our rented house was on four acres of property which had been extensively planted with flowering bushes, trees, and fruit trees by an American agriculturist who’d lived there for 10 years. It was my first exposure to jasmine, to lantanas, to bougainvilla, to hibiscus, to poinsettia trees, to royal poinciana trees…to this day, over 50 years later, the fragrance of jasmine transports me right back there!

    Reply
  17. My military family moved to South America when I was 11 (Paraguay) and our rented house was on four acres of property which had been extensively planted with flowering bushes, trees, and fruit trees by an American agriculturist who’d lived there for 10 years. It was my first exposure to jasmine, to lantanas, to bougainvilla, to hibiscus, to poinsettia trees, to royal poinciana trees…to this day, over 50 years later, the fragrance of jasmine transports me right back there!

    Reply
  18. My military family moved to South America when I was 11 (Paraguay) and our rented house was on four acres of property which had been extensively planted with flowering bushes, trees, and fruit trees by an American agriculturist who’d lived there for 10 years. It was my first exposure to jasmine, to lantanas, to bougainvilla, to hibiscus, to poinsettia trees, to royal poinciana trees…to this day, over 50 years later, the fragrance of jasmine transports me right back there!

    Reply
  19. My military family moved to South America when I was 11 (Paraguay) and our rented house was on four acres of property which had been extensively planted with flowering bushes, trees, and fruit trees by an American agriculturist who’d lived there for 10 years. It was my first exposure to jasmine, to lantanas, to bougainvilla, to hibiscus, to poinsettia trees, to royal poinciana trees…to this day, over 50 years later, the fragrance of jasmine transports me right back there!

    Reply
  20. My military family moved to South America when I was 11 (Paraguay) and our rented house was on four acres of property which had been extensively planted with flowering bushes, trees, and fruit trees by an American agriculturist who’d lived there for 10 years. It was my first exposure to jasmine, to lantanas, to bougainvilla, to hibiscus, to poinsettia trees, to royal poinciana trees…to this day, over 50 years later, the fragrance of jasmine transports me right back there!

    Reply
  21. Oh sympathies on the sick daphne, Anne! I had a spectacular daphne when we lived in NC, but it was all tangled up in a veritable poison ivy hedge. I had to get rid of the ivy with a powerful chemical and apparently, a tiny bit drifted somehow to the daphne. It died practically overnight. I mourned that beautiful fragrance. And the ivy, of course, kept coming back.
    And now my gardenia is dying, presumably from mites. I have plumeria so I’m giving up on gardenias. Do daphnes get mites?

    Reply
  22. Oh sympathies on the sick daphne, Anne! I had a spectacular daphne when we lived in NC, but it was all tangled up in a veritable poison ivy hedge. I had to get rid of the ivy with a powerful chemical and apparently, a tiny bit drifted somehow to the daphne. It died practically overnight. I mourned that beautiful fragrance. And the ivy, of course, kept coming back.
    And now my gardenia is dying, presumably from mites. I have plumeria so I’m giving up on gardenias. Do daphnes get mites?

    Reply
  23. Oh sympathies on the sick daphne, Anne! I had a spectacular daphne when we lived in NC, but it was all tangled up in a veritable poison ivy hedge. I had to get rid of the ivy with a powerful chemical and apparently, a tiny bit drifted somehow to the daphne. It died practically overnight. I mourned that beautiful fragrance. And the ivy, of course, kept coming back.
    And now my gardenia is dying, presumably from mites. I have plumeria so I’m giving up on gardenias. Do daphnes get mites?

    Reply
  24. Oh sympathies on the sick daphne, Anne! I had a spectacular daphne when we lived in NC, but it was all tangled up in a veritable poison ivy hedge. I had to get rid of the ivy with a powerful chemical and apparently, a tiny bit drifted somehow to the daphne. It died practically overnight. I mourned that beautiful fragrance. And the ivy, of course, kept coming back.
    And now my gardenia is dying, presumably from mites. I have plumeria so I’m giving up on gardenias. Do daphnes get mites?

    Reply
  25. Oh sympathies on the sick daphne, Anne! I had a spectacular daphne when we lived in NC, but it was all tangled up in a veritable poison ivy hedge. I had to get rid of the ivy with a powerful chemical and apparently, a tiny bit drifted somehow to the daphne. It died practically overnight. I mourned that beautiful fragrance. And the ivy, of course, kept coming back.
    And now my gardenia is dying, presumably from mites. I have plumeria so I’m giving up on gardenias. Do daphnes get mites?

    Reply
  26. I gardened until about 15 years ago; I still have some house plants.
    I never planned my gardens. I just planted. And I always mixed the flowers and the vegetables. Not for the modern reasons of some flowers keeping pests away, but just because I liked it that way.
    I always had fun with each of my gardens, from the victory gardens of the 1940s until age made me quit in my late 70s or early 80s.
    My grandmother, on the other hand had a freshly planted garden when she died and age 97-1/2. She clearly had more stamina than I ever had!

    Reply
  27. I gardened until about 15 years ago; I still have some house plants.
    I never planned my gardens. I just planted. And I always mixed the flowers and the vegetables. Not for the modern reasons of some flowers keeping pests away, but just because I liked it that way.
    I always had fun with each of my gardens, from the victory gardens of the 1940s until age made me quit in my late 70s or early 80s.
    My grandmother, on the other hand had a freshly planted garden when she died and age 97-1/2. She clearly had more stamina than I ever had!

    Reply
  28. I gardened until about 15 years ago; I still have some house plants.
    I never planned my gardens. I just planted. And I always mixed the flowers and the vegetables. Not for the modern reasons of some flowers keeping pests away, but just because I liked it that way.
    I always had fun with each of my gardens, from the victory gardens of the 1940s until age made me quit in my late 70s or early 80s.
    My grandmother, on the other hand had a freshly planted garden when she died and age 97-1/2. She clearly had more stamina than I ever had!

    Reply
  29. I gardened until about 15 years ago; I still have some house plants.
    I never planned my gardens. I just planted. And I always mixed the flowers and the vegetables. Not for the modern reasons of some flowers keeping pests away, but just because I liked it that way.
    I always had fun with each of my gardens, from the victory gardens of the 1940s until age made me quit in my late 70s or early 80s.
    My grandmother, on the other hand had a freshly planted garden when she died and age 97-1/2. She clearly had more stamina than I ever had!

    Reply
  30. I gardened until about 15 years ago; I still have some house plants.
    I never planned my gardens. I just planted. And I always mixed the flowers and the vegetables. Not for the modern reasons of some flowers keeping pests away, but just because I liked it that way.
    I always had fun with each of my gardens, from the victory gardens of the 1940s until age made me quit in my late 70s or early 80s.
    My grandmother, on the other hand had a freshly planted garden when she died and age 97-1/2. She clearly had more stamina than I ever had!

    Reply
  31. How lovely to read that you spent time in Paraguay. I was born there and left when I was 9. The flowers there were amazing and I still remember the scents of so many. My father worked with wood turning and he could smell the wood and tell us the tree name and how good it was for working with it.

    Reply
  32. How lovely to read that you spent time in Paraguay. I was born there and left when I was 9. The flowers there were amazing and I still remember the scents of so many. My father worked with wood turning and he could smell the wood and tell us the tree name and how good it was for working with it.

    Reply
  33. How lovely to read that you spent time in Paraguay. I was born there and left when I was 9. The flowers there were amazing and I still remember the scents of so many. My father worked with wood turning and he could smell the wood and tell us the tree name and how good it was for working with it.

    Reply
  34. How lovely to read that you spent time in Paraguay. I was born there and left when I was 9. The flowers there were amazing and I still remember the scents of so many. My father worked with wood turning and he could smell the wood and tell us the tree name and how good it was for working with it.

    Reply
  35. How lovely to read that you spent time in Paraguay. I was born there and left when I was 9. The flowers there were amazing and I still remember the scents of so many. My father worked with wood turning and he could smell the wood and tell us the tree name and how good it was for working with it.

    Reply
  36. I can only remember the various scents now. I lost my sense of smell after a concussion about 7 years ago. I am always so disappointed when I bend down to smell a flower and there is nothing. The sense of smell also affects your sense of taste and that has been turned upside down. But in reading this article I am reminded of all the lovely odors (and some bad ones) and can still sense them in a way.

    Reply
  37. I can only remember the various scents now. I lost my sense of smell after a concussion about 7 years ago. I am always so disappointed when I bend down to smell a flower and there is nothing. The sense of smell also affects your sense of taste and that has been turned upside down. But in reading this article I am reminded of all the lovely odors (and some bad ones) and can still sense them in a way.

    Reply
  38. I can only remember the various scents now. I lost my sense of smell after a concussion about 7 years ago. I am always so disappointed when I bend down to smell a flower and there is nothing. The sense of smell also affects your sense of taste and that has been turned upside down. But in reading this article I am reminded of all the lovely odors (and some bad ones) and can still sense them in a way.

    Reply
  39. I can only remember the various scents now. I lost my sense of smell after a concussion about 7 years ago. I am always so disappointed when I bend down to smell a flower and there is nothing. The sense of smell also affects your sense of taste and that has been turned upside down. But in reading this article I am reminded of all the lovely odors (and some bad ones) and can still sense them in a way.

    Reply
  40. I can only remember the various scents now. I lost my sense of smell after a concussion about 7 years ago. I am always so disappointed when I bend down to smell a flower and there is nothing. The sense of smell also affects your sense of taste and that has been turned upside down. But in reading this article I am reminded of all the lovely odors (and some bad ones) and can still sense them in a way.

    Reply
  41. I’m a terrible gardener but I love other people’s gardens. I love snowdrops, because they’d poke up bravely in my grandmother’s garden every year and look so graceful. I had some of her bulbs but when I moved they disappeared, became a casualty of the move. So unfortunate… My favourite flower is the carnation. I used to love their picture on the tins of Carnation Milk we had when I was a child, their beautiful white with pink tips were so frilly and lovely. The first time I actually discovered their scent was wonderful, it instantly became my favourite scent, and still is. Please tell your friend her garden is gorgeous!

    Reply
  42. I’m a terrible gardener but I love other people’s gardens. I love snowdrops, because they’d poke up bravely in my grandmother’s garden every year and look so graceful. I had some of her bulbs but when I moved they disappeared, became a casualty of the move. So unfortunate… My favourite flower is the carnation. I used to love their picture on the tins of Carnation Milk we had when I was a child, their beautiful white with pink tips were so frilly and lovely. The first time I actually discovered their scent was wonderful, it instantly became my favourite scent, and still is. Please tell your friend her garden is gorgeous!

    Reply
  43. I’m a terrible gardener but I love other people’s gardens. I love snowdrops, because they’d poke up bravely in my grandmother’s garden every year and look so graceful. I had some of her bulbs but when I moved they disappeared, became a casualty of the move. So unfortunate… My favourite flower is the carnation. I used to love their picture on the tins of Carnation Milk we had when I was a child, their beautiful white with pink tips were so frilly and lovely. The first time I actually discovered their scent was wonderful, it instantly became my favourite scent, and still is. Please tell your friend her garden is gorgeous!

    Reply
  44. I’m a terrible gardener but I love other people’s gardens. I love snowdrops, because they’d poke up bravely in my grandmother’s garden every year and look so graceful. I had some of her bulbs but when I moved they disappeared, became a casualty of the move. So unfortunate… My favourite flower is the carnation. I used to love their picture on the tins of Carnation Milk we had when I was a child, their beautiful white with pink tips were so frilly and lovely. The first time I actually discovered their scent was wonderful, it instantly became my favourite scent, and still is. Please tell your friend her garden is gorgeous!

    Reply
  45. I’m a terrible gardener but I love other people’s gardens. I love snowdrops, because they’d poke up bravely in my grandmother’s garden every year and look so graceful. I had some of her bulbs but when I moved they disappeared, became a casualty of the move. So unfortunate… My favourite flower is the carnation. I used to love their picture on the tins of Carnation Milk we had when I was a child, their beautiful white with pink tips were so frilly and lovely. The first time I actually discovered their scent was wonderful, it instantly became my favourite scent, and still is. Please tell your friend her garden is gorgeous!

    Reply
  46. Thanks, Prue. Scents can be so powerful, can’t they? I remember brushing up against a straggly silver-grey bush one time, and instantly I was on Uncle Ern and Aunty Ruby’s farm — a place I hadn’t been since I was a kid. The bush was wormwood, and they had it planted all around the chicken run. And we kids would play hide and seek in it. The slightly acrid but appealing scent drew me straight back there.

    Reply
  47. Thanks, Prue. Scents can be so powerful, can’t they? I remember brushing up against a straggly silver-grey bush one time, and instantly I was on Uncle Ern and Aunty Ruby’s farm — a place I hadn’t been since I was a kid. The bush was wormwood, and they had it planted all around the chicken run. And we kids would play hide and seek in it. The slightly acrid but appealing scent drew me straight back there.

    Reply
  48. Thanks, Prue. Scents can be so powerful, can’t they? I remember brushing up against a straggly silver-grey bush one time, and instantly I was on Uncle Ern and Aunty Ruby’s farm — a place I hadn’t been since I was a kid. The bush was wormwood, and they had it planted all around the chicken run. And we kids would play hide and seek in it. The slightly acrid but appealing scent drew me straight back there.

    Reply
  49. Thanks, Prue. Scents can be so powerful, can’t they? I remember brushing up against a straggly silver-grey bush one time, and instantly I was on Uncle Ern and Aunty Ruby’s farm — a place I hadn’t been since I was a kid. The bush was wormwood, and they had it planted all around the chicken run. And we kids would play hide and seek in it. The slightly acrid but appealing scent drew me straight back there.

    Reply
  50. Thanks, Prue. Scents can be so powerful, can’t they? I remember brushing up against a straggly silver-grey bush one time, and instantly I was on Uncle Ern and Aunty Ruby’s farm — a place I hadn’t been since I was a kid. The bush was wormwood, and they had it planted all around the chicken run. And we kids would play hide and seek in it. The slightly acrid but appealing scent drew me straight back there.

    Reply
  51. Oh Christina, I love lilac, too — and I almost posted about my beloved old lilac but I was running out of space (and time). My lilac looks a bit straggly, but in the spring — oh, the magic of those blooms and the scent.
    And sweet peas are also a favorite of mine. I love their delicate colors, and the fragrance is such a bonus. Thanks for the reminder. I must plant some this year.

    Reply
  52. Oh Christina, I love lilac, too — and I almost posted about my beloved old lilac but I was running out of space (and time). My lilac looks a bit straggly, but in the spring — oh, the magic of those blooms and the scent.
    And sweet peas are also a favorite of mine. I love their delicate colors, and the fragrance is such a bonus. Thanks for the reminder. I must plant some this year.

    Reply
  53. Oh Christina, I love lilac, too — and I almost posted about my beloved old lilac but I was running out of space (and time). My lilac looks a bit straggly, but in the spring — oh, the magic of those blooms and the scent.
    And sweet peas are also a favorite of mine. I love their delicate colors, and the fragrance is such a bonus. Thanks for the reminder. I must plant some this year.

    Reply
  54. Oh Christina, I love lilac, too — and I almost posted about my beloved old lilac but I was running out of space (and time). My lilac looks a bit straggly, but in the spring — oh, the magic of those blooms and the scent.
    And sweet peas are also a favorite of mine. I love their delicate colors, and the fragrance is such a bonus. Thanks for the reminder. I must plant some this year.

    Reply
  55. Oh Christina, I love lilac, too — and I almost posted about my beloved old lilac but I was running out of space (and time). My lilac looks a bit straggly, but in the spring — oh, the magic of those blooms and the scent.
    And sweet peas are also a favorite of mine. I love their delicate colors, and the fragrance is such a bonus. Thanks for the reminder. I must plant some this year.

    Reply
  56. Mary, I was given a peony once, and planted it, but it never thrived. They are such sumptuous flowers, aren’t they? And hibiscus are beautiful. I’ve never grown them, so I didn’t know they attracted butterflies and humming birds. How lovely.

    Reply
  57. Mary, I was given a peony once, and planted it, but it never thrived. They are such sumptuous flowers, aren’t they? And hibiscus are beautiful. I’ve never grown them, so I didn’t know they attracted butterflies and humming birds. How lovely.

    Reply
  58. Mary, I was given a peony once, and planted it, but it never thrived. They are such sumptuous flowers, aren’t they? And hibiscus are beautiful. I’ve never grown them, so I didn’t know they attracted butterflies and humming birds. How lovely.

    Reply
  59. Mary, I was given a peony once, and planted it, but it never thrived. They are such sumptuous flowers, aren’t they? And hibiscus are beautiful. I’ve never grown them, so I didn’t know they attracted butterflies and humming birds. How lovely.

    Reply
  60. Mary, I was given a peony once, and planted it, but it never thrived. They are such sumptuous flowers, aren’t they? And hibiscus are beautiful. I’ve never grown them, so I didn’t know they attracted butterflies and humming birds. How lovely.

    Reply
  61. What a lovely post, Anne. I’m not a gardener, but I like to stop and enjoy other people’s flowers!
    When I married, my bouquet contained some Alstroemeria which my husband and I (for reasons now unknown) called ancient lilies. Some thirty years later, when he brings me a bouquet, it almost always contains some ancient lilies!

    Reply
  62. What a lovely post, Anne. I’m not a gardener, but I like to stop and enjoy other people’s flowers!
    When I married, my bouquet contained some Alstroemeria which my husband and I (for reasons now unknown) called ancient lilies. Some thirty years later, when he brings me a bouquet, it almost always contains some ancient lilies!

    Reply
  63. What a lovely post, Anne. I’m not a gardener, but I like to stop and enjoy other people’s flowers!
    When I married, my bouquet contained some Alstroemeria which my husband and I (for reasons now unknown) called ancient lilies. Some thirty years later, when he brings me a bouquet, it almost always contains some ancient lilies!

    Reply
  64. What a lovely post, Anne. I’m not a gardener, but I like to stop and enjoy other people’s flowers!
    When I married, my bouquet contained some Alstroemeria which my husband and I (for reasons now unknown) called ancient lilies. Some thirty years later, when he brings me a bouquet, it almost always contains some ancient lilies!

    Reply
  65. What a lovely post, Anne. I’m not a gardener, but I like to stop and enjoy other people’s flowers!
    When I married, my bouquet contained some Alstroemeria which my husband and I (for reasons now unknown) called ancient lilies. Some thirty years later, when he brings me a bouquet, it almost always contains some ancient lilies!

    Reply
  66. Thanks, Mary Jo — I wish now I’d included my lilac in the list. It’s an old bush, and in need of a good hard trim, because it’s straggly, but every year it bursts forth with gorgeously scented blooms.

    Reply
  67. Thanks, Mary Jo — I wish now I’d included my lilac in the list. It’s an old bush, and in need of a good hard trim, because it’s straggly, but every year it bursts forth with gorgeously scented blooms.

    Reply
  68. Thanks, Mary Jo — I wish now I’d included my lilac in the list. It’s an old bush, and in need of a good hard trim, because it’s straggly, but every year it bursts forth with gorgeously scented blooms.

    Reply
  69. Thanks, Mary Jo — I wish now I’d included my lilac in the list. It’s an old bush, and in need of a good hard trim, because it’s straggly, but every year it bursts forth with gorgeously scented blooms.

    Reply
  70. Thanks, Mary Jo — I wish now I’d included my lilac in the list. It’s an old bush, and in need of a good hard trim, because it’s straggly, but every year it bursts forth with gorgeously scented blooms.

    Reply
  71. What wonderful stories.
    When I was a kid, for a time my dad, who was a nurseryman/contractor and my mom ran a flower shop. My dad did the buying and the schmoozing; my mom did the flower arrangements. I don’t know how or when or where she learned — she was a farm girl but flowers weren’t the crop — but she could arrange flowers like the ladies in our regencies and she made all the corsages my brothers brought their high school dates.
    What I remember particularly is that we were always short on cash – we had old worn furniture, chipped plates, things like that – but we always had the most beautiful flower arrangements in our home, done from gladioli and poppies and daisies and plum tree branches and whatever would grow in our backyard.
    Her favorite vase was a tall clear puce-ish glass thing that my brother had retrieved from some discards at a department store downtown where he had a temp job. He carried it onto the bus to bring it home, but the driver noticed it and told him he couldn’t have a thing like that on the bus because of the danger of breaking glass, so he got off and hid the vase behind a billboard in an empty lot. He and my oldest brother, who had a car by then, did a retrieval run the next morning. It was still there. It was perfect for branches and salmon-colored gladioli. When I read tales of regency folk in rundown houses with display cases of treasures to distract the eye from their lack of funds to keep the place up, I think of that vase.

    Reply
  72. What wonderful stories.
    When I was a kid, for a time my dad, who was a nurseryman/contractor and my mom ran a flower shop. My dad did the buying and the schmoozing; my mom did the flower arrangements. I don’t know how or when or where she learned — she was a farm girl but flowers weren’t the crop — but she could arrange flowers like the ladies in our regencies and she made all the corsages my brothers brought their high school dates.
    What I remember particularly is that we were always short on cash – we had old worn furniture, chipped plates, things like that – but we always had the most beautiful flower arrangements in our home, done from gladioli and poppies and daisies and plum tree branches and whatever would grow in our backyard.
    Her favorite vase was a tall clear puce-ish glass thing that my brother had retrieved from some discards at a department store downtown where he had a temp job. He carried it onto the bus to bring it home, but the driver noticed it and told him he couldn’t have a thing like that on the bus because of the danger of breaking glass, so he got off and hid the vase behind a billboard in an empty lot. He and my oldest brother, who had a car by then, did a retrieval run the next morning. It was still there. It was perfect for branches and salmon-colored gladioli. When I read tales of regency folk in rundown houses with display cases of treasures to distract the eye from their lack of funds to keep the place up, I think of that vase.

    Reply
  73. What wonderful stories.
    When I was a kid, for a time my dad, who was a nurseryman/contractor and my mom ran a flower shop. My dad did the buying and the schmoozing; my mom did the flower arrangements. I don’t know how or when or where she learned — she was a farm girl but flowers weren’t the crop — but she could arrange flowers like the ladies in our regencies and she made all the corsages my brothers brought their high school dates.
    What I remember particularly is that we were always short on cash – we had old worn furniture, chipped plates, things like that – but we always had the most beautiful flower arrangements in our home, done from gladioli and poppies and daisies and plum tree branches and whatever would grow in our backyard.
    Her favorite vase was a tall clear puce-ish glass thing that my brother had retrieved from some discards at a department store downtown where he had a temp job. He carried it onto the bus to bring it home, but the driver noticed it and told him he couldn’t have a thing like that on the bus because of the danger of breaking glass, so he got off and hid the vase behind a billboard in an empty lot. He and my oldest brother, who had a car by then, did a retrieval run the next morning. It was still there. It was perfect for branches and salmon-colored gladioli. When I read tales of regency folk in rundown houses with display cases of treasures to distract the eye from their lack of funds to keep the place up, I think of that vase.

    Reply
  74. What wonderful stories.
    When I was a kid, for a time my dad, who was a nurseryman/contractor and my mom ran a flower shop. My dad did the buying and the schmoozing; my mom did the flower arrangements. I don’t know how or when or where she learned — she was a farm girl but flowers weren’t the crop — but she could arrange flowers like the ladies in our regencies and she made all the corsages my brothers brought their high school dates.
    What I remember particularly is that we were always short on cash – we had old worn furniture, chipped plates, things like that – but we always had the most beautiful flower arrangements in our home, done from gladioli and poppies and daisies and plum tree branches and whatever would grow in our backyard.
    Her favorite vase was a tall clear puce-ish glass thing that my brother had retrieved from some discards at a department store downtown where he had a temp job. He carried it onto the bus to bring it home, but the driver noticed it and told him he couldn’t have a thing like that on the bus because of the danger of breaking glass, so he got off and hid the vase behind a billboard in an empty lot. He and my oldest brother, who had a car by then, did a retrieval run the next morning. It was still there. It was perfect for branches and salmon-colored gladioli. When I read tales of regency folk in rundown houses with display cases of treasures to distract the eye from their lack of funds to keep the place up, I think of that vase.

    Reply
  75. What wonderful stories.
    When I was a kid, for a time my dad, who was a nurseryman/contractor and my mom ran a flower shop. My dad did the buying and the schmoozing; my mom did the flower arrangements. I don’t know how or when or where she learned — she was a farm girl but flowers weren’t the crop — but she could arrange flowers like the ladies in our regencies and she made all the corsages my brothers brought their high school dates.
    What I remember particularly is that we were always short on cash – we had old worn furniture, chipped plates, things like that – but we always had the most beautiful flower arrangements in our home, done from gladioli and poppies and daisies and plum tree branches and whatever would grow in our backyard.
    Her favorite vase was a tall clear puce-ish glass thing that my brother had retrieved from some discards at a department store downtown where he had a temp job. He carried it onto the bus to bring it home, but the driver noticed it and told him he couldn’t have a thing like that on the bus because of the danger of breaking glass, so he got off and hid the vase behind a billboard in an empty lot. He and my oldest brother, who had a car by then, did a retrieval run the next morning. It was still there. It was perfect for branches and salmon-colored gladioli. When I read tales of regency folk in rundown houses with display cases of treasures to distract the eye from their lack of funds to keep the place up, I think of that vase.

    Reply
  76. Oh how lovely, Kate — a different climate and a garden planted by a man who loved flowers. It sounds beautiful — all those lovely bright colors and the fragrance of jasmine. I have jasmine on my side fence and when it flowers I love opening the window and letting the fragrance waft through the house.

    Reply
  77. Oh how lovely, Kate — a different climate and a garden planted by a man who loved flowers. It sounds beautiful — all those lovely bright colors and the fragrance of jasmine. I have jasmine on my side fence and when it flowers I love opening the window and letting the fragrance waft through the house.

    Reply
  78. Oh how lovely, Kate — a different climate and a garden planted by a man who loved flowers. It sounds beautiful — all those lovely bright colors and the fragrance of jasmine. I have jasmine on my side fence and when it flowers I love opening the window and letting the fragrance waft through the house.

    Reply
  79. Oh how lovely, Kate — a different climate and a garden planted by a man who loved flowers. It sounds beautiful — all those lovely bright colors and the fragrance of jasmine. I have jasmine on my side fence and when it flowers I love opening the window and letting the fragrance waft through the house.

    Reply
  80. Oh how lovely, Kate — a different climate and a garden planted by a man who loved flowers. It sounds beautiful — all those lovely bright colors and the fragrance of jasmine. I have jasmine on my side fence and when it flowers I love opening the window and letting the fragrance waft through the house.

    Reply
  81. Margot, people who work with wood are amazing, aren’t they? I have a friend who’s a wood-turner and he does that, too. He brings his off-cuts home for their fire, and I’m always going through their wood-pile and pinching beautiful bits of wood.

    Reply
  82. Margot, people who work with wood are amazing, aren’t they? I have a friend who’s a wood-turner and he does that, too. He brings his off-cuts home for their fire, and I’m always going through their wood-pile and pinching beautiful bits of wood.

    Reply
  83. Margot, people who work with wood are amazing, aren’t they? I have a friend who’s a wood-turner and he does that, too. He brings his off-cuts home for their fire, and I’m always going through their wood-pile and pinching beautiful bits of wood.

    Reply
  84. Margot, people who work with wood are amazing, aren’t they? I have a friend who’s a wood-turner and he does that, too. He brings his off-cuts home for their fire, and I’m always going through their wood-pile and pinching beautiful bits of wood.

    Reply
  85. Margot, people who work with wood are amazing, aren’t they? I have a friend who’s a wood-turner and he does that, too. He brings his off-cuts home for their fire, and I’m always going through their wood-pile and pinching beautiful bits of wood.

    Reply
  86. Pat, daphnes can be tricky — they can flourish for years and then turn up their toes and die for no apparent reason. I’m not terribly hopeful for this one, but I’m going to try to keep it going. And get cuttings going as well.
    A friend of mine had a gorgeous garden, and all down the side of the living area she had gardenias planted in a line, as a low sort of hedge. When they flowered the house smelled glorious.

    Reply
  87. Pat, daphnes can be tricky — they can flourish for years and then turn up their toes and die for no apparent reason. I’m not terribly hopeful for this one, but I’m going to try to keep it going. And get cuttings going as well.
    A friend of mine had a gorgeous garden, and all down the side of the living area she had gardenias planted in a line, as a low sort of hedge. When they flowered the house smelled glorious.

    Reply
  88. Pat, daphnes can be tricky — they can flourish for years and then turn up their toes and die for no apparent reason. I’m not terribly hopeful for this one, but I’m going to try to keep it going. And get cuttings going as well.
    A friend of mine had a gorgeous garden, and all down the side of the living area she had gardenias planted in a line, as a low sort of hedge. When they flowered the house smelled glorious.

    Reply
  89. Pat, daphnes can be tricky — they can flourish for years and then turn up their toes and die for no apparent reason. I’m not terribly hopeful for this one, but I’m going to try to keep it going. And get cuttings going as well.
    A friend of mine had a gorgeous garden, and all down the side of the living area she had gardenias planted in a line, as a low sort of hedge. When they flowered the house smelled glorious.

    Reply
  90. Pat, daphnes can be tricky — they can flourish for years and then turn up their toes and die for no apparent reason. I’m not terribly hopeful for this one, but I’m going to try to keep it going. And get cuttings going as well.
    A friend of mine had a gorgeous garden, and all down the side of the living area she had gardenias planted in a line, as a low sort of hedge. When they flowered the house smelled glorious.

    Reply
  91. Sue, I love mixing flowers and vegies too. Those victory gardens during the war — I think they turned a lot of people into gardeners who might not otherwise have discovered how pleasurable — and useful— they are.
    I am always impressed at the variety of activities you do. I can see you had a wonderful model in your grandmother. The old lady next door to me was gardening — and really impressively with big vegie beds and fruit trees as well as lots of flowers and a fernery — and not a weed in sight (unlike me) — until her mid 90’s.

    Reply
  92. Sue, I love mixing flowers and vegies too. Those victory gardens during the war — I think they turned a lot of people into gardeners who might not otherwise have discovered how pleasurable — and useful— they are.
    I am always impressed at the variety of activities you do. I can see you had a wonderful model in your grandmother. The old lady next door to me was gardening — and really impressively with big vegie beds and fruit trees as well as lots of flowers and a fernery — and not a weed in sight (unlike me) — until her mid 90’s.

    Reply
  93. Sue, I love mixing flowers and vegies too. Those victory gardens during the war — I think they turned a lot of people into gardeners who might not otherwise have discovered how pleasurable — and useful— they are.
    I am always impressed at the variety of activities you do. I can see you had a wonderful model in your grandmother. The old lady next door to me was gardening — and really impressively with big vegie beds and fruit trees as well as lots of flowers and a fernery — and not a weed in sight (unlike me) — until her mid 90’s.

    Reply
  94. Sue, I love mixing flowers and vegies too. Those victory gardens during the war — I think they turned a lot of people into gardeners who might not otherwise have discovered how pleasurable — and useful— they are.
    I am always impressed at the variety of activities you do. I can see you had a wonderful model in your grandmother. The old lady next door to me was gardening — and really impressively with big vegie beds and fruit trees as well as lots of flowers and a fernery — and not a weed in sight (unlike me) — until her mid 90’s.

    Reply
  95. Sue, I love mixing flowers and vegies too. Those victory gardens during the war — I think they turned a lot of people into gardeners who might not otherwise have discovered how pleasurable — and useful— they are.
    I am always impressed at the variety of activities you do. I can see you had a wonderful model in your grandmother. The old lady next door to me was gardening — and really impressively with big vegie beds and fruit trees as well as lots of flowers and a fernery — and not a weed in sight (unlike me) — until her mid 90’s.

    Reply
  96. Oh Margot, what a rotten thing to happen. I used to work with a woman who’d lost her sense of smell, and she almost had to force herself to eat, because most of the taste of food is actually smell. And yes, the memory of scent will still be there.

    Reply
  97. Oh Margot, what a rotten thing to happen. I used to work with a woman who’d lost her sense of smell, and she almost had to force herself to eat, because most of the taste of food is actually smell. And yes, the memory of scent will still be there.

    Reply
  98. Oh Margot, what a rotten thing to happen. I used to work with a woman who’d lost her sense of smell, and she almost had to force herself to eat, because most of the taste of food is actually smell. And yes, the memory of scent will still be there.

    Reply
  99. Oh Margot, what a rotten thing to happen. I used to work with a woman who’d lost her sense of smell, and she almost had to force herself to eat, because most of the taste of food is actually smell. And yes, the memory of scent will still be there.

    Reply
  100. Oh Margot, what a rotten thing to happen. I used to work with a woman who’d lost her sense of smell, and she almost had to force herself to eat, because most of the taste of food is actually smell. And yes, the memory of scent will still be there.

    Reply
  101. Malvina, carnations are lovely. I think it’s such a shame that they went out of fashion for a while — people called them old fashioned. My nan’s carnations were gorgeously scented. I’m wondering now whether the fragrance has been bred out of the commercially grown ones — that’s happened to a lot of roses, I know, breeders going for color and form rather than fragrance. I must sniff the next carnations I see in a flower stand.
    And yes, my friend’s garden is gorgeous, isn’t it? I can’t wait for my bluebells to spread through the garden like that.

    Reply
  102. Malvina, carnations are lovely. I think it’s such a shame that they went out of fashion for a while — people called them old fashioned. My nan’s carnations were gorgeously scented. I’m wondering now whether the fragrance has been bred out of the commercially grown ones — that’s happened to a lot of roses, I know, breeders going for color and form rather than fragrance. I must sniff the next carnations I see in a flower stand.
    And yes, my friend’s garden is gorgeous, isn’t it? I can’t wait for my bluebells to spread through the garden like that.

    Reply
  103. Malvina, carnations are lovely. I think it’s such a shame that they went out of fashion for a while — people called them old fashioned. My nan’s carnations were gorgeously scented. I’m wondering now whether the fragrance has been bred out of the commercially grown ones — that’s happened to a lot of roses, I know, breeders going for color and form rather than fragrance. I must sniff the next carnations I see in a flower stand.
    And yes, my friend’s garden is gorgeous, isn’t it? I can’t wait for my bluebells to spread through the garden like that.

    Reply
  104. Malvina, carnations are lovely. I think it’s such a shame that they went out of fashion for a while — people called them old fashioned. My nan’s carnations were gorgeously scented. I’m wondering now whether the fragrance has been bred out of the commercially grown ones — that’s happened to a lot of roses, I know, breeders going for color and form rather than fragrance. I must sniff the next carnations I see in a flower stand.
    And yes, my friend’s garden is gorgeous, isn’t it? I can’t wait for my bluebells to spread through the garden like that.

    Reply
  105. Malvina, carnations are lovely. I think it’s such a shame that they went out of fashion for a while — people called them old fashioned. My nan’s carnations were gorgeously scented. I’m wondering now whether the fragrance has been bred out of the commercially grown ones — that’s happened to a lot of roses, I know, breeders going for color and form rather than fragrance. I must sniff the next carnations I see in a flower stand.
    And yes, my friend’s garden is gorgeous, isn’t it? I can’t wait for my bluebells to spread through the garden like that.

    Reply
  106. Kareni, I love alstroemeria. I have lovely light red ones that flower every year with no attention whatsoever. They came from Mum and Dad’s garden, where they grew really well in their sandy coastal soil, and have done equally well in mine — even lasting through drought with little attention. They make wonderful cut flowers too, and last for ages. I’ve never heard them called Ancient ilies, but I like the sound of it.

    Reply
  107. Kareni, I love alstroemeria. I have lovely light red ones that flower every year with no attention whatsoever. They came from Mum and Dad’s garden, where they grew really well in their sandy coastal soil, and have done equally well in mine — even lasting through drought with little attention. They make wonderful cut flowers too, and last for ages. I’ve never heard them called Ancient ilies, but I like the sound of it.

    Reply
  108. Kareni, I love alstroemeria. I have lovely light red ones that flower every year with no attention whatsoever. They came from Mum and Dad’s garden, where they grew really well in their sandy coastal soil, and have done equally well in mine — even lasting through drought with little attention. They make wonderful cut flowers too, and last for ages. I’ve never heard them called Ancient ilies, but I like the sound of it.

    Reply
  109. Kareni, I love alstroemeria. I have lovely light red ones that flower every year with no attention whatsoever. They came from Mum and Dad’s garden, where they grew really well in their sandy coastal soil, and have done equally well in mine — even lasting through drought with little attention. They make wonderful cut flowers too, and last for ages. I’ve never heard them called Ancient ilies, but I like the sound of it.

    Reply
  110. Kareni, I love alstroemeria. I have lovely light red ones that flower every year with no attention whatsoever. They came from Mum and Dad’s garden, where they grew really well in their sandy coastal soil, and have done equally well in mine — even lasting through drought with little attention. They make wonderful cut flowers too, and last for ages. I’ve never heard them called Ancient ilies, but I like the sound of it.

    Reply
  111. What a wonderful story, Janice — thank you for sharing. I love the discovery of the vase and how it became part of your family story. And I love how you always had beautiful flowers in the house. I think it makes such a difference to a home.
    I love having fresh flowers or vases of leaves in the house, though I don’t always do it. A friend of mine buys several bunches of flowers every week and arranges them beautifully. I enjoy arranging flowers and leaves, but I’m a bit slapdash, so mine never look professional.

    Reply
  112. What a wonderful story, Janice — thank you for sharing. I love the discovery of the vase and how it became part of your family story. And I love how you always had beautiful flowers in the house. I think it makes such a difference to a home.
    I love having fresh flowers or vases of leaves in the house, though I don’t always do it. A friend of mine buys several bunches of flowers every week and arranges them beautifully. I enjoy arranging flowers and leaves, but I’m a bit slapdash, so mine never look professional.

    Reply
  113. What a wonderful story, Janice — thank you for sharing. I love the discovery of the vase and how it became part of your family story. And I love how you always had beautiful flowers in the house. I think it makes such a difference to a home.
    I love having fresh flowers or vases of leaves in the house, though I don’t always do it. A friend of mine buys several bunches of flowers every week and arranges them beautifully. I enjoy arranging flowers and leaves, but I’m a bit slapdash, so mine never look professional.

    Reply
  114. What a wonderful story, Janice — thank you for sharing. I love the discovery of the vase and how it became part of your family story. And I love how you always had beautiful flowers in the house. I think it makes such a difference to a home.
    I love having fresh flowers or vases of leaves in the house, though I don’t always do it. A friend of mine buys several bunches of flowers every week and arranges them beautifully. I enjoy arranging flowers and leaves, but I’m a bit slapdash, so mine never look professional.

    Reply
  115. What a wonderful story, Janice — thank you for sharing. I love the discovery of the vase and how it became part of your family story. And I love how you always had beautiful flowers in the house. I think it makes such a difference to a home.
    I love having fresh flowers or vases of leaves in the house, though I don’t always do it. A friend of mine buys several bunches of flowers every week and arranges them beautifully. I enjoy arranging flowers and leaves, but I’m a bit slapdash, so mine never look professional.

    Reply
  116. The story of aggressive bluebells resonated with me. I have just cleared a border, filling a large bag with spanish bluebells and grape hyacinth bulbs. Both are very attractive when in flower but can rapidly take over a garden!
    I have fond memories of my grand parents competing in local flower shows …. and winning prizes! They also grew fruit and veg and gave me a clump of delicious rhubarb for my garden. Every time I stew some of the rhubarb I remember them among the flowers, pruning the climbing roses covering the many arches and nurturing the flowering plants to obtain large blooms for show.
    This week the Chelsea flower show is in full swing with top designers creating show gardens each with a particular theme. I particularly liked the garden created with input from the Duchess of Cambridge and her children. Not eligible for a prize but I thought it brought out some of the most important features of a garden. A place to relax and get away from the stresses and strains of life.
    https://www.hellomagazine.com/royalty/2019052273345/kate-middleton-wont-win-award-chelsea-garden-show/

    Reply
  117. The story of aggressive bluebells resonated with me. I have just cleared a border, filling a large bag with spanish bluebells and grape hyacinth bulbs. Both are very attractive when in flower but can rapidly take over a garden!
    I have fond memories of my grand parents competing in local flower shows …. and winning prizes! They also grew fruit and veg and gave me a clump of delicious rhubarb for my garden. Every time I stew some of the rhubarb I remember them among the flowers, pruning the climbing roses covering the many arches and nurturing the flowering plants to obtain large blooms for show.
    This week the Chelsea flower show is in full swing with top designers creating show gardens each with a particular theme. I particularly liked the garden created with input from the Duchess of Cambridge and her children. Not eligible for a prize but I thought it brought out some of the most important features of a garden. A place to relax and get away from the stresses and strains of life.
    https://www.hellomagazine.com/royalty/2019052273345/kate-middleton-wont-win-award-chelsea-garden-show/

    Reply
  118. The story of aggressive bluebells resonated with me. I have just cleared a border, filling a large bag with spanish bluebells and grape hyacinth bulbs. Both are very attractive when in flower but can rapidly take over a garden!
    I have fond memories of my grand parents competing in local flower shows …. and winning prizes! They also grew fruit and veg and gave me a clump of delicious rhubarb for my garden. Every time I stew some of the rhubarb I remember them among the flowers, pruning the climbing roses covering the many arches and nurturing the flowering plants to obtain large blooms for show.
    This week the Chelsea flower show is in full swing with top designers creating show gardens each with a particular theme. I particularly liked the garden created with input from the Duchess of Cambridge and her children. Not eligible for a prize but I thought it brought out some of the most important features of a garden. A place to relax and get away from the stresses and strains of life.
    https://www.hellomagazine.com/royalty/2019052273345/kate-middleton-wont-win-award-chelsea-garden-show/

    Reply
  119. The story of aggressive bluebells resonated with me. I have just cleared a border, filling a large bag with spanish bluebells and grape hyacinth bulbs. Both are very attractive when in flower but can rapidly take over a garden!
    I have fond memories of my grand parents competing in local flower shows …. and winning prizes! They also grew fruit and veg and gave me a clump of delicious rhubarb for my garden. Every time I stew some of the rhubarb I remember them among the flowers, pruning the climbing roses covering the many arches and nurturing the flowering plants to obtain large blooms for show.
    This week the Chelsea flower show is in full swing with top designers creating show gardens each with a particular theme. I particularly liked the garden created with input from the Duchess of Cambridge and her children. Not eligible for a prize but I thought it brought out some of the most important features of a garden. A place to relax and get away from the stresses and strains of life.
    https://www.hellomagazine.com/royalty/2019052273345/kate-middleton-wont-win-award-chelsea-garden-show/

    Reply
  120. The story of aggressive bluebells resonated with me. I have just cleared a border, filling a large bag with spanish bluebells and grape hyacinth bulbs. Both are very attractive when in flower but can rapidly take over a garden!
    I have fond memories of my grand parents competing in local flower shows …. and winning prizes! They also grew fruit and veg and gave me a clump of delicious rhubarb for my garden. Every time I stew some of the rhubarb I remember them among the flowers, pruning the climbing roses covering the many arches and nurturing the flowering plants to obtain large blooms for show.
    This week the Chelsea flower show is in full swing with top designers creating show gardens each with a particular theme. I particularly liked the garden created with input from the Duchess of Cambridge and her children. Not eligible for a prize but I thought it brought out some of the most important features of a garden. A place to relax and get away from the stresses and strains of life.
    https://www.hellomagazine.com/royalty/2019052273345/kate-middleton-wont-win-award-chelsea-garden-show/

    Reply
  121. Don’t be afraid to cut back the lilacs hard, right after they bloom. They form flower buds over the summer, so if you trim it in the fall, it won’t bloom the following spring season. Some people cut down 1/3 or 1/4 of the oldest wood to the ground every year or two. I took some of the old French lilacs that my father had for about 50 years, and I’ve had them now for about 25 years. I baby my lilacs and feed them lime every year and the blossom heads are huge.

    Reply
  122. Don’t be afraid to cut back the lilacs hard, right after they bloom. They form flower buds over the summer, so if you trim it in the fall, it won’t bloom the following spring season. Some people cut down 1/3 or 1/4 of the oldest wood to the ground every year or two. I took some of the old French lilacs that my father had for about 50 years, and I’ve had them now for about 25 years. I baby my lilacs and feed them lime every year and the blossom heads are huge.

    Reply
  123. Don’t be afraid to cut back the lilacs hard, right after they bloom. They form flower buds over the summer, so if you trim it in the fall, it won’t bloom the following spring season. Some people cut down 1/3 or 1/4 of the oldest wood to the ground every year or two. I took some of the old French lilacs that my father had for about 50 years, and I’ve had them now for about 25 years. I baby my lilacs and feed them lime every year and the blossom heads are huge.

    Reply
  124. Don’t be afraid to cut back the lilacs hard, right after they bloom. They form flower buds over the summer, so if you trim it in the fall, it won’t bloom the following spring season. Some people cut down 1/3 or 1/4 of the oldest wood to the ground every year or two. I took some of the old French lilacs that my father had for about 50 years, and I’ve had them now for about 25 years. I baby my lilacs and feed them lime every year and the blossom heads are huge.

    Reply
  125. Don’t be afraid to cut back the lilacs hard, right after they bloom. They form flower buds over the summer, so if you trim it in the fall, it won’t bloom the following spring season. Some people cut down 1/3 or 1/4 of the oldest wood to the ground every year or two. I took some of the old French lilacs that my father had for about 50 years, and I’ve had them now for about 25 years. I baby my lilacs and feed them lime every year and the blossom heads are huge.

    Reply
  126. Aside from my beloved lilacs which I mentioned about, I love the native American mountain laurel. We had a massive clump of it in our yard when I was growing up, about 10 feet across. It doesn’t have much of a smell, but it was a favorite because it always used to bloom around my birthday, at the end of May.
    I also have some beautiful deep pink peonies given to me by a neighbor before she moved to Florida. I think of her every year when they bloom.

    Reply
  127. Aside from my beloved lilacs which I mentioned about, I love the native American mountain laurel. We had a massive clump of it in our yard when I was growing up, about 10 feet across. It doesn’t have much of a smell, but it was a favorite because it always used to bloom around my birthday, at the end of May.
    I also have some beautiful deep pink peonies given to me by a neighbor before she moved to Florida. I think of her every year when they bloom.

    Reply
  128. Aside from my beloved lilacs which I mentioned about, I love the native American mountain laurel. We had a massive clump of it in our yard when I was growing up, about 10 feet across. It doesn’t have much of a smell, but it was a favorite because it always used to bloom around my birthday, at the end of May.
    I also have some beautiful deep pink peonies given to me by a neighbor before she moved to Florida. I think of her every year when they bloom.

    Reply
  129. Aside from my beloved lilacs which I mentioned about, I love the native American mountain laurel. We had a massive clump of it in our yard when I was growing up, about 10 feet across. It doesn’t have much of a smell, but it was a favorite because it always used to bloom around my birthday, at the end of May.
    I also have some beautiful deep pink peonies given to me by a neighbor before she moved to Florida. I think of her every year when they bloom.

    Reply
  130. Aside from my beloved lilacs which I mentioned about, I love the native American mountain laurel. We had a massive clump of it in our yard when I was growing up, about 10 feet across. It doesn’t have much of a smell, but it was a favorite because it always used to bloom around my birthday, at the end of May.
    I also have some beautiful deep pink peonies given to me by a neighbor before she moved to Florida. I think of her every year when they bloom.

    Reply
  131. When I was young I lived with my Grandmother for awhile. She had a big front yard filled with iris. I fell in love with them then. I have passed that love on to my middle daughter.
    At one time, I had a large backyard and was able to plant a ton of iris along with other plants. I got various plants and found many that I truly liked.
    Now, I have plants in pots on my patio. I am trying new things that work in pots.
    I loved the picture of your friend’s garden. It looks lovely.

    Reply
  132. When I was young I lived with my Grandmother for awhile. She had a big front yard filled with iris. I fell in love with them then. I have passed that love on to my middle daughter.
    At one time, I had a large backyard and was able to plant a ton of iris along with other plants. I got various plants and found many that I truly liked.
    Now, I have plants in pots on my patio. I am trying new things that work in pots.
    I loved the picture of your friend’s garden. It looks lovely.

    Reply
  133. When I was young I lived with my Grandmother for awhile. She had a big front yard filled with iris. I fell in love with them then. I have passed that love on to my middle daughter.
    At one time, I had a large backyard and was able to plant a ton of iris along with other plants. I got various plants and found many that I truly liked.
    Now, I have plants in pots on my patio. I am trying new things that work in pots.
    I loved the picture of your friend’s garden. It looks lovely.

    Reply
  134. When I was young I lived with my Grandmother for awhile. She had a big front yard filled with iris. I fell in love with them then. I have passed that love on to my middle daughter.
    At one time, I had a large backyard and was able to plant a ton of iris along with other plants. I got various plants and found many that I truly liked.
    Now, I have plants in pots on my patio. I am trying new things that work in pots.
    I loved the picture of your friend’s garden. It looks lovely.

    Reply
  135. When I was young I lived with my Grandmother for awhile. She had a big front yard filled with iris. I fell in love with them then. I have passed that love on to my middle daughter.
    At one time, I had a large backyard and was able to plant a ton of iris along with other plants. I got various plants and found many that I truly liked.
    Now, I have plants in pots on my patio. I am trying new things that work in pots.
    I loved the picture of your friend’s garden. It looks lovely.

    Reply
  136. My mother loved geraniums. She had them everywhere at home when I was growing up and I grew to dislike them intensely. Especially the red ones. Mam died last year and now every time I see one I think of her. I even bought one last Summer and had it in a pot outside the front door.
    Funny you mentioned bluebells. They’re my favorite wild flower and I believe they are protected now here in Ireland there is such a scarcity of them.
    Lovely post.

    Reply
  137. My mother loved geraniums. She had them everywhere at home when I was growing up and I grew to dislike them intensely. Especially the red ones. Mam died last year and now every time I see one I think of her. I even bought one last Summer and had it in a pot outside the front door.
    Funny you mentioned bluebells. They’re my favorite wild flower and I believe they are protected now here in Ireland there is such a scarcity of them.
    Lovely post.

    Reply
  138. My mother loved geraniums. She had them everywhere at home when I was growing up and I grew to dislike them intensely. Especially the red ones. Mam died last year and now every time I see one I think of her. I even bought one last Summer and had it in a pot outside the front door.
    Funny you mentioned bluebells. They’re my favorite wild flower and I believe they are protected now here in Ireland there is such a scarcity of them.
    Lovely post.

    Reply
  139. My mother loved geraniums. She had them everywhere at home when I was growing up and I grew to dislike them intensely. Especially the red ones. Mam died last year and now every time I see one I think of her. I even bought one last Summer and had it in a pot outside the front door.
    Funny you mentioned bluebells. They’re my favorite wild flower and I believe they are protected now here in Ireland there is such a scarcity of them.
    Lovely post.

    Reply
  140. My mother loved geraniums. She had them everywhere at home when I was growing up and I grew to dislike them intensely. Especially the red ones. Mam died last year and now every time I see one I think of her. I even bought one last Summer and had it in a pot outside the front door.
    Funny you mentioned bluebells. They’re my favorite wild flower and I believe they are protected now here in Ireland there is such a scarcity of them.
    Lovely post.

    Reply
  141. Thanks so much for sharing that link, Quantum — it’s a lovely garden and perfect for children as well as adults. I like a garden with a little wildness in it — I so dislike some of the currently fashionable gardens that are all straight lines and boxy shapes. And often with no flowers. And don’t get me started on those “garden renovation” TV stories where they end up covering half the garden with decking!
    And isn’t rhubarb a lovely homey thing to grow? We always had it in the garden when I was a kid, and my favourite was stewed rhubarb and apple. I don’t have it in the garden at the moment, but I get it from a friend’s garden occasionally.
    I suppose I might get to the point where I’ll pull out bluebells, but I haven’t reached it yet. And I’ve always loved grape hyacinths _ they were one of my faves with I was a child, with their little fairy bells. I have creamy freesias naturalizing in my lawn, and I love them, too, messy as they become. The fragrance is so lovely, it’s well worth the mess.

    Reply
  142. Thanks so much for sharing that link, Quantum — it’s a lovely garden and perfect for children as well as adults. I like a garden with a little wildness in it — I so dislike some of the currently fashionable gardens that are all straight lines and boxy shapes. And often with no flowers. And don’t get me started on those “garden renovation” TV stories where they end up covering half the garden with decking!
    And isn’t rhubarb a lovely homey thing to grow? We always had it in the garden when I was a kid, and my favourite was stewed rhubarb and apple. I don’t have it in the garden at the moment, but I get it from a friend’s garden occasionally.
    I suppose I might get to the point where I’ll pull out bluebells, but I haven’t reached it yet. And I’ve always loved grape hyacinths _ they were one of my faves with I was a child, with their little fairy bells. I have creamy freesias naturalizing in my lawn, and I love them, too, messy as they become. The fragrance is so lovely, it’s well worth the mess.

    Reply
  143. Thanks so much for sharing that link, Quantum — it’s a lovely garden and perfect for children as well as adults. I like a garden with a little wildness in it — I so dislike some of the currently fashionable gardens that are all straight lines and boxy shapes. And often with no flowers. And don’t get me started on those “garden renovation” TV stories where they end up covering half the garden with decking!
    And isn’t rhubarb a lovely homey thing to grow? We always had it in the garden when I was a kid, and my favourite was stewed rhubarb and apple. I don’t have it in the garden at the moment, but I get it from a friend’s garden occasionally.
    I suppose I might get to the point where I’ll pull out bluebells, but I haven’t reached it yet. And I’ve always loved grape hyacinths _ they were one of my faves with I was a child, with their little fairy bells. I have creamy freesias naturalizing in my lawn, and I love them, too, messy as they become. The fragrance is so lovely, it’s well worth the mess.

    Reply
  144. Thanks so much for sharing that link, Quantum — it’s a lovely garden and perfect for children as well as adults. I like a garden with a little wildness in it — I so dislike some of the currently fashionable gardens that are all straight lines and boxy shapes. And often with no flowers. And don’t get me started on those “garden renovation” TV stories where they end up covering half the garden with decking!
    And isn’t rhubarb a lovely homey thing to grow? We always had it in the garden when I was a kid, and my favourite was stewed rhubarb and apple. I don’t have it in the garden at the moment, but I get it from a friend’s garden occasionally.
    I suppose I might get to the point where I’ll pull out bluebells, but I haven’t reached it yet. And I’ve always loved grape hyacinths _ they were one of my faves with I was a child, with their little fairy bells. I have creamy freesias naturalizing in my lawn, and I love them, too, messy as they become. The fragrance is so lovely, it’s well worth the mess.

    Reply
  145. Thanks so much for sharing that link, Quantum — it’s a lovely garden and perfect for children as well as adults. I like a garden with a little wildness in it — I so dislike some of the currently fashionable gardens that are all straight lines and boxy shapes. And often with no flowers. And don’t get me started on those “garden renovation” TV stories where they end up covering half the garden with decking!
    And isn’t rhubarb a lovely homey thing to grow? We always had it in the garden when I was a kid, and my favourite was stewed rhubarb and apple. I don’t have it in the garden at the moment, but I get it from a friend’s garden occasionally.
    I suppose I might get to the point where I’ll pull out bluebells, but I haven’t reached it yet. And I’ve always loved grape hyacinths _ they were one of my faves with I was a child, with their little fairy bells. I have creamy freesias naturalizing in my lawn, and I love them, too, messy as they become. The fragrance is so lovely, it’s well worth the mess.

    Reply
  146. Karin I just looked up the native American mountain laurel — how pretty they are. I can imagine how nice it must have been to have it flower for your birthday.
    And peonies are so lovely with their big silky flowers. I was given a dark red one once, but sadly it failed to thrive. I felt terrible about that, too. It’s so awful when you fail a special plant.

    Reply
  147. Karin I just looked up the native American mountain laurel — how pretty they are. I can imagine how nice it must have been to have it flower for your birthday.
    And peonies are so lovely with their big silky flowers. I was given a dark red one once, but sadly it failed to thrive. I felt terrible about that, too. It’s so awful when you fail a special plant.

    Reply
  148. Karin I just looked up the native American mountain laurel — how pretty they are. I can imagine how nice it must have been to have it flower for your birthday.
    And peonies are so lovely with their big silky flowers. I was given a dark red one once, but sadly it failed to thrive. I felt terrible about that, too. It’s so awful when you fail a special plant.

    Reply
  149. Karin I just looked up the native American mountain laurel — how pretty they are. I can imagine how nice it must have been to have it flower for your birthday.
    And peonies are so lovely with their big silky flowers. I was given a dark red one once, but sadly it failed to thrive. I felt terrible about that, too. It’s so awful when you fail a special plant.

    Reply
  150. Karin I just looked up the native American mountain laurel — how pretty they are. I can imagine how nice it must have been to have it flower for your birthday.
    And peonies are so lovely with their big silky flowers. I was given a dark red one once, but sadly it failed to thrive. I felt terrible about that, too. It’s so awful when you fail a special plant.

    Reply
  151. Irises are lovely, I agree, Annette. My dad loved them too and had them all over the garden, in all kinds of colors and heights. I think my favorites are the little Japanese irises.
    A friend of mine recently moved from a beautiful mountain garden home to a city apartment, and has been experimenting with what grows in pots. You can pick out her balcony so easily — it’s spilling over with flowers and greenery.

    Reply
  152. Irises are lovely, I agree, Annette. My dad loved them too and had them all over the garden, in all kinds of colors and heights. I think my favorites are the little Japanese irises.
    A friend of mine recently moved from a beautiful mountain garden home to a city apartment, and has been experimenting with what grows in pots. You can pick out her balcony so easily — it’s spilling over with flowers and greenery.

    Reply
  153. Irises are lovely, I agree, Annette. My dad loved them too and had them all over the garden, in all kinds of colors and heights. I think my favorites are the little Japanese irises.
    A friend of mine recently moved from a beautiful mountain garden home to a city apartment, and has been experimenting with what grows in pots. You can pick out her balcony so easily — it’s spilling over with flowers and greenery.

    Reply
  154. Irises are lovely, I agree, Annette. My dad loved them too and had them all over the garden, in all kinds of colors and heights. I think my favorites are the little Japanese irises.
    A friend of mine recently moved from a beautiful mountain garden home to a city apartment, and has been experimenting with what grows in pots. You can pick out her balcony so easily — it’s spilling over with flowers and greenery.

    Reply
  155. Irises are lovely, I agree, Annette. My dad loved them too and had them all over the garden, in all kinds of colors and heights. I think my favorites are the little Japanese irises.
    A friend of mine recently moved from a beautiful mountain garden home to a city apartment, and has been experimenting with what grows in pots. You can pick out her balcony so easily — it’s spilling over with flowers and greenery.

    Reply
  156. Teresa, I never did think much of geraniums either — especially the red ones. And then a friend gave me a cutting from what she calls “the ancestral geranium.” She has Swiss ancestors and when they migrated to Australia, several generations ago, they brought out cuttings from a beloved geranium from their window box. They survived — they’re very hardy — and now there are many many plants descended from it. Now every time I water that red geranium, I smile and think of the journey it made. And when I prune it, I always make another cutting to give away, and the story goes with it.
    I’m amazed bluebells are scarce now in Ireland. Presumably they’re not the same as the Spanish bluebells that Quantum and my godmother happily weed out. I hope your lovely irish ones come back. I’ve yet to see a bluebell wood, but ever since reading the Grand Sophy, I’ve wanted to. In the meantime my friend’s front garden (in the pic) is the closest I have.

    Reply
  157. Teresa, I never did think much of geraniums either — especially the red ones. And then a friend gave me a cutting from what she calls “the ancestral geranium.” She has Swiss ancestors and when they migrated to Australia, several generations ago, they brought out cuttings from a beloved geranium from their window box. They survived — they’re very hardy — and now there are many many plants descended from it. Now every time I water that red geranium, I smile and think of the journey it made. And when I prune it, I always make another cutting to give away, and the story goes with it.
    I’m amazed bluebells are scarce now in Ireland. Presumably they’re not the same as the Spanish bluebells that Quantum and my godmother happily weed out. I hope your lovely irish ones come back. I’ve yet to see a bluebell wood, but ever since reading the Grand Sophy, I’ve wanted to. In the meantime my friend’s front garden (in the pic) is the closest I have.

    Reply
  158. Teresa, I never did think much of geraniums either — especially the red ones. And then a friend gave me a cutting from what she calls “the ancestral geranium.” She has Swiss ancestors and when they migrated to Australia, several generations ago, they brought out cuttings from a beloved geranium from their window box. They survived — they’re very hardy — and now there are many many plants descended from it. Now every time I water that red geranium, I smile and think of the journey it made. And when I prune it, I always make another cutting to give away, and the story goes with it.
    I’m amazed bluebells are scarce now in Ireland. Presumably they’re not the same as the Spanish bluebells that Quantum and my godmother happily weed out. I hope your lovely irish ones come back. I’ve yet to see a bluebell wood, but ever since reading the Grand Sophy, I’ve wanted to. In the meantime my friend’s front garden (in the pic) is the closest I have.

    Reply
  159. Teresa, I never did think much of geraniums either — especially the red ones. And then a friend gave me a cutting from what she calls “the ancestral geranium.” She has Swiss ancestors and when they migrated to Australia, several generations ago, they brought out cuttings from a beloved geranium from their window box. They survived — they’re very hardy — and now there are many many plants descended from it. Now every time I water that red geranium, I smile and think of the journey it made. And when I prune it, I always make another cutting to give away, and the story goes with it.
    I’m amazed bluebells are scarce now in Ireland. Presumably they’re not the same as the Spanish bluebells that Quantum and my godmother happily weed out. I hope your lovely irish ones come back. I’ve yet to see a bluebell wood, but ever since reading the Grand Sophy, I’ve wanted to. In the meantime my friend’s front garden (in the pic) is the closest I have.

    Reply
  160. Teresa, I never did think much of geraniums either — especially the red ones. And then a friend gave me a cutting from what she calls “the ancestral geranium.” She has Swiss ancestors and when they migrated to Australia, several generations ago, they brought out cuttings from a beloved geranium from their window box. They survived — they’re very hardy — and now there are many many plants descended from it. Now every time I water that red geranium, I smile and think of the journey it made. And when I prune it, I always make another cutting to give away, and the story goes with it.
    I’m amazed bluebells are scarce now in Ireland. Presumably they’re not the same as the Spanish bluebells that Quantum and my godmother happily weed out. I hope your lovely irish ones come back. I’ve yet to see a bluebell wood, but ever since reading the Grand Sophy, I’ve wanted to. In the meantime my friend’s front garden (in the pic) is the closest I have.

    Reply
  161. Karin, thanks so much for those tips. My trouble is that I’ve missed the pruning time for the last few years — I plant to, but life gets in the way — and so it’s a bit straggly. But I do plan to give it a good prune next spring. It’s amazingly hardy — has survived I don’t know how many droughts, and years of neglect, and each year it gives me beautiful flowers with magic scent.

    Reply
  162. Karin, thanks so much for those tips. My trouble is that I’ve missed the pruning time for the last few years — I plant to, but life gets in the way — and so it’s a bit straggly. But I do plan to give it a good prune next spring. It’s amazingly hardy — has survived I don’t know how many droughts, and years of neglect, and each year it gives me beautiful flowers with magic scent.

    Reply
  163. Karin, thanks so much for those tips. My trouble is that I’ve missed the pruning time for the last few years — I plant to, but life gets in the way — and so it’s a bit straggly. But I do plan to give it a good prune next spring. It’s amazingly hardy — has survived I don’t know how many droughts, and years of neglect, and each year it gives me beautiful flowers with magic scent.

    Reply
  164. Karin, thanks so much for those tips. My trouble is that I’ve missed the pruning time for the last few years — I plant to, but life gets in the way — and so it’s a bit straggly. But I do plan to give it a good prune next spring. It’s amazingly hardy — has survived I don’t know how many droughts, and years of neglect, and each year it gives me beautiful flowers with magic scent.

    Reply
  165. Karin, thanks so much for those tips. My trouble is that I’ve missed the pruning time for the last few years — I plant to, but life gets in the way — and so it’s a bit straggly. But I do plan to give it a good prune next spring. It’s amazingly hardy — has survived I don’t know how many droughts, and years of neglect, and each year it gives me beautiful flowers with magic scent.

    Reply
  166. I have many family “heirloom” plants in my yard. I live in the house my mother bought after my father passed away. She brought a blue spruce, a spirea shrub, some peonys, a forsythia, and several lilacs from our old house and planted them in her yards here. I added some forget-me-nots that truly are heirlooms, as they are from plants that existed before my mother was born in 1927. I also added some lilies of the valley from my paternal grandmother, among other plants. These plants and many more bloom in succession with each other starting with the snow drops and ending with the clematis on the chain link fence. As I enjoy all the beautiful and fragrant flowers, I remember each and every family member and friend associated with them. My small, messy yard is a mini jungle of happy memories.

    Reply
  167. I have many family “heirloom” plants in my yard. I live in the house my mother bought after my father passed away. She brought a blue spruce, a spirea shrub, some peonys, a forsythia, and several lilacs from our old house and planted them in her yards here. I added some forget-me-nots that truly are heirlooms, as they are from plants that existed before my mother was born in 1927. I also added some lilies of the valley from my paternal grandmother, among other plants. These plants and many more bloom in succession with each other starting with the snow drops and ending with the clematis on the chain link fence. As I enjoy all the beautiful and fragrant flowers, I remember each and every family member and friend associated with them. My small, messy yard is a mini jungle of happy memories.

    Reply
  168. I have many family “heirloom” plants in my yard. I live in the house my mother bought after my father passed away. She brought a blue spruce, a spirea shrub, some peonys, a forsythia, and several lilacs from our old house and planted them in her yards here. I added some forget-me-nots that truly are heirlooms, as they are from plants that existed before my mother was born in 1927. I also added some lilies of the valley from my paternal grandmother, among other plants. These plants and many more bloom in succession with each other starting with the snow drops and ending with the clematis on the chain link fence. As I enjoy all the beautiful and fragrant flowers, I remember each and every family member and friend associated with them. My small, messy yard is a mini jungle of happy memories.

    Reply
  169. I have many family “heirloom” plants in my yard. I live in the house my mother bought after my father passed away. She brought a blue spruce, a spirea shrub, some peonys, a forsythia, and several lilacs from our old house and planted them in her yards here. I added some forget-me-nots that truly are heirlooms, as they are from plants that existed before my mother was born in 1927. I also added some lilies of the valley from my paternal grandmother, among other plants. These plants and many more bloom in succession with each other starting with the snow drops and ending with the clematis on the chain link fence. As I enjoy all the beautiful and fragrant flowers, I remember each and every family member and friend associated with them. My small, messy yard is a mini jungle of happy memories.

    Reply
  170. I have many family “heirloom” plants in my yard. I live in the house my mother bought after my father passed away. She brought a blue spruce, a spirea shrub, some peonys, a forsythia, and several lilacs from our old house and planted them in her yards here. I added some forget-me-nots that truly are heirlooms, as they are from plants that existed before my mother was born in 1927. I also added some lilies of the valley from my paternal grandmother, among other plants. These plants and many more bloom in succession with each other starting with the snow drops and ending with the clematis on the chain link fence. As I enjoy all the beautiful and fragrant flowers, I remember each and every family member and friend associated with them. My small, messy yard is a mini jungle of happy memories.

    Reply
  171. It sounds like a lovely garden, Claire. I’m very fond of forget-me-nots, and the idea that they’ve been in your family such a long time is lovely. And having the year round, seasonal company of family plants is priceless. Thank you so much for sharing.

    Reply
  172. It sounds like a lovely garden, Claire. I’m very fond of forget-me-nots, and the idea that they’ve been in your family such a long time is lovely. And having the year round, seasonal company of family plants is priceless. Thank you so much for sharing.

    Reply
  173. It sounds like a lovely garden, Claire. I’m very fond of forget-me-nots, and the idea that they’ve been in your family such a long time is lovely. And having the year round, seasonal company of family plants is priceless. Thank you so much for sharing.

    Reply
  174. It sounds like a lovely garden, Claire. I’m very fond of forget-me-nots, and the idea that they’ve been in your family such a long time is lovely. And having the year round, seasonal company of family plants is priceless. Thank you so much for sharing.

    Reply
  175. It sounds like a lovely garden, Claire. I’m very fond of forget-me-nots, and the idea that they’ve been in your family such a long time is lovely. And having the year round, seasonal company of family plants is priceless. Thank you so much for sharing.

    Reply

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