1) I’m a gardener in April, maybe May. By June I’ve lost interest and everything dies.

2) I rarely plant anything besides flowers. I don’t eat vegetables unless they are in salsa or pizza sauce.

3) I chose my flowers based on sentimental reasons, not because they add to the appearance of my yard or are suited to our climate (see confession #1).

So as I’m out weeding this spring, praying that we don’t have another summer that competes with oven temperatures, I’m reminded of some special people who’ve left me with sweet memories… as well as seeds, clippings and bulbs.

In the shade of our giant crepe myrtle are the rangy columbine with the delicate blooms that came from my Grandma H.’s house. Her brother lived in Colorado and brought her a different strand every time he visited. Grandma had a lot of columbine.

The daffodils that line the walk from the drive to the side door remind me of my former roommate, but current cousin and friend – Lori. She’s always had a green thumb and is an awesome photographer. All these pictures are hers, but when I’m cleaning my daffodil bed I don’t think of the pictures. Instead, I think of the sleepovers we had that always included romance books smuggled in our suitcases.

The tiger lilies haven’t bloomed yet, but they look thick and strong. Those bulbs are from my friend Jennifer –  the product of a day spent thinning out her flower beds. She lived on a golf course and we were frequently interrupted to get lemonade for friends making their way around the 12th hole.

I’ve tried to get clematis going like my Grandma Carol’s. Hers is strategically placed to cover the waterspout from the laundry room. Maybe that’s why it won’t take. It needs some Tide as fertilizer.

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