Flower planting

Yesterday went to the nursery to get flowers. Begonias, Thrift, and other stuff. My dad, my son and I planted flowers.

We replanted a couple of bushes. Last year or two years ago, I planted these tall Indian Hawthorne bushes, poor man azaelas I call them, and they covered up the Chrysatemum and the lower Indian Hawthorne bushes. So, my dad, my son, and I dug them up and replanted them in the back of the flowerbeds.

I grew up in West Texas and flowers were not a part of life. I remember as a kid that my aunt asked me to weed her flowerbeds and I pulled up all her Marigolds because they stunk. "Flowers are supposed to smell good, so these must be weeds,"I told her. She shook her head went back inside to smoke a cigarette as she realized that having me weed her lawns was costly.

So, in Kansas City I began to find the joy of flowers. There were trees that budded and bloomed. There were tulips and Irises. It was a beautiful place in spring and I got caught up in it. It was a cool part of spring, because on that first warm week many on our block were cleaning out flowerbeds to plant. It was a community thing.

Then we moved to Texas and had to learn a whole new climate. Now, we moved from annuals to perennials. We have more shrubs and other plants that will hopefully bloom and flower.

I don't know why I enjoy this work, because it is not in my upraising. But, I find delight in watching things grow. It is way to view creation and to delight in the creator's handiwork. It is play, tools, dirt, and worms.

joy,
Guido