I don’t know about anyone else, but I love the smell of flowers. I often take the saying, “stop and smell the roses” to heart. I do that every time I go to the post office — once when I go in and again when I leave.
At home, I have a honeysuckle vine. A pen pal sent it to me several years ago. I really didn’t have a place to plant it except in the backyard at the base of the only tree on the property. The vine now grows around the tree trunk and over onto a brush pile. I just love the smell of it, especially during my early-morning walks with Jake. It makes those 5 A.M. outings a little more tolerable.
To be honest, though, my own green thumb is a rather pale shade of green. I dream of being a wonderful master gardener. The truth is, it’s a great thing that I’m not a farmer by trade. Most everything that I plant doesn’t do well, if it survives at all.
Perhaps this is why I always have a soft spot for zinnias, marigolds, and sunflowers. They seem to be forgiving types of flowers. They tolerate the “not so gifted gardener” like myself. Sometimes I get a wildflower mix that I have some luck with. When I’m lucky enough to get things to grow and survive, I enjoy watching the bees and butterflies come for a visit.
A neighbor gave me several tomato plants that he had started from seed. Maybe I’m weird, but I love the smell of tomato plants. So far, out of 15 plants, I’ve managed to keep about nine of them alive. I do have a few tomatoes on them. I’m not sure how many that I’ll get from them, but just seeing a few puts a smile on my face.
Perhaps there’s still hope for me yet on getting the pale green thumb a little darker.