Monday, February 12, 2007
As a child my plot was stuffed with bright, loud flowers. Striped pink petunias, yellow pompom marigolds, vulgar geraniums (as they were known back in the day) shouted happily together. As an adult my pretensions to sophistication grew. I planted species roses and learned to appreciate the beauty and balance of green in a garden. But appreciation isn’t love and I haven’t found the joy I had as a child, my garish annuals. Then not so long ago, driven by I know not what, I planted zinnias. They are shocking and bold and unapologetic about it. I love them.