It is so apropos that my Dad was born on the first day of Spring, as if he were meant to love flowers. He was most certainly born to garden and came into this world with two green thumbs (and left-handed like our Lucy and Avery).
As we grow up we tend to guess at our gene pool and wonder which of the chromosomal currents came from the parental pond. Mom's penchant for meditation? Dad's determination to finish the job 'til it's done? Her eyes? His smile?
For me, the guessing ends when it comes to gardening.
I got it from my Dad.
I love flowers so much. So much that sometimes when viewing them I say it out loud to them.
And no flower outshines the flowers that appear out of spring bulbs. These were planted by Dr. Gooch.
Hundreds of them, pink, striated, red, pale, bright, yellow, and oh so fragrant.
I missed his tribute on the 20th, so today, on the 22nd, these are for you, Dad.
Pictures of the posies...
that have turned our little plot of land into a parade of color.
Next year, let us celebrate you, Spring, and the tulips in person. Then I can thank you face to face for passing down such fantastic (and flowery) genes.
And, because I know you love a good trivia question, can you name this surprise bloom? Is it a rare type of Narcissus? It smells as sweet as a hyacinth and seemed to have stowed away in the bag of tulip bulbs...
Happy 58th! I love you.