Last year on one of our trips to the Farmer’s Market, we spotted a beautiful Hydrangea plant. It doesn’t take much for me to succumb to the beautiful color and the big blooms even on a small plant. My husband always says if I pick it out, he can plant it. Of course, that says nothing about my abilities to keep plants alive and thriving. I’m much better off leaving it to nature. Turns out that’s a pretty good method for me so far. In fact, sometimes I just feign disinterest lest the plants or flowers get an idea that I’m holding my breath, hoping they won’t shrivel and die.
Thus I’m presenting proof here today with you all as my witnesses, our hydrangea is blooming in a color so deep and so rich that it almost doesn’t seem real. And to be fair, I certainly can’t take the credit for it unless you consider the fact that I did a wonderful job of acting disinterested.
Sometimes I wonder if the plants are thinking to themselves, “I believe we’re being ignored. She’s not looking.” How little they know . . .