I haven’t always liked flowers. They were always around and blooming. My gramdma had them, aunts, cousins and neighbors had them.
My first real encounter with flowers was living in Germany in the early 70’s.
We lived in a house that was probably a couple of hundred years old. The apartment was in the basement or lower walk out. It was warm in the summer but not hot. Behind it was the family’s garden area. They grew most of their own summer vegetables. Oma, the grandma, tended the gardens. I don’t know how old she was, but she always had a scarf on her head, and her work was done by 8 or 9 a.m.
My first spring in Germany was somewhat of a culture shock. It was West Germany. The wall was still in place. Travel was restricted. Hippies were frowned upon, and military folks dressed nicely when they went out into public.
In early spring, one morning I walked out our back door to find the back yard covered with pansies. The landlord and family grew them to sell at the local market. Little pansies with their faces turned toward the light. The smell was heavy and very memorable. I fell in love with pansies.
Ever since then pansies have been my go to flowers, early spring, in pots and containers. They always bring back happy memories.
My sister Mary brings me flowers, pansies, for my birthday. I always go out and buy a few on my own. We have some really nice greenhouses in our area. They have ample supplies of pansies. If you want real fancy pansies there are some nurseries up in Overland Park that carry the ones that look like Victorian photographs.
There is nothing wrong remember days gone by.
There is nothing wrong with memories.
Lots of times those are the things that helped us get through this past unusual year. I frequently have to inhale a big breath of pansy scent in and remember that spring so long ago.
That familiar smell of spring is in the air