So for a few years I have planted petunias. I am not a green thumb at all in fact I am a brown thumb. Plants die as soon as they reach our threshold. Once we were given a plant as a thank you from church and we tripped with it coming up our front stairs.
But, despite all of that, I buy petunias and plant them. Yes, I am an extreme sentimentalist. Mom always called me Petunia. I don't know where the nickname came from, and in fact don't even know if she is the one who started it, but when she was really affectionate with me, it was Petunia she used. Why did she call Ted, SAM? Why do I call Bethany, Bee or BEES?
So I bought them yesterday, along with some PINK geraniums, and they are sitting on our front patio, in the rain waiting to be planted. Sue is an artist, and when I told her the story about Mom, she painted me a picture of a single petunia. Should I take that picture to Coniston (The name of our house in South Hero, and material for a later post), or leave it here?
When I walk into the house, all summer, I see the petunias and they remind me of MOM.
This year, I picked out purple and pink varieties. They are a really cool range of colors.
Happy Spring!!!!!! Happy Petunias!!!!!!
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