It would be nice to be a somewhat confident and avid gardener, but I think that forte has so far passed me by. It’s not for lack of tools. We have some very nice, never used, shiny-in-the-box tools.
They were a gift and perhaps in the future, near or far, I may settle down enough to poke around in the dirt with them. Some people are very happy (and successful) there. I would probably accidently bury a teddy ear that had been stuck to my shirt and then have to go dig it up.
But, I digress; I came here to share with you a bit of a story about a plant – indicative of many of those that grow in our yard.
I think it was Alfred Lord Tennyson that said “In the spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love.” With apologies to Mr. Tennyson, I offer my version: “In the spring, my fancy lightly turns to thoughts of flowers.” I see them and fall in love. I have often been smitten in the Farmer’s Market and home we go with hope in a plant pot. I am an optimist who silently repeats over and over, “please, please, please grow.”
It was this very scenario the same time last year when a very lovely plant came home with us. It bloomed its season and then fall arrived. Soon enough winter followed and the plant was forgotten.
This past weekend while we were enjoying the beautiful weather, my husband asked me, “What is this?” I looked and then remembered my spring fever from last year. The plant had returned in spite of my neglect or possibly, because of it.
Herewith, I present these photos of my Bleeding Heart for which I cannot take credit.