The next morning, there was a bent and dried greenish brown stick in a juice glass on the kitchen windowsill. It looked lonely so my sister and I gave it other sticks to keep it company. Very funny, said mom, and a few days later took her Cedar Point stick outside to plant it. My sister and I made a little marker for it that said "Mom's Stick" so dad wouldn't think it was the kind of stick you run over with the mower. Today, that stick is a bush behind my folks house. We still don't know what kind of plant it is so we just call it the Cedar Point bush.
I don't trust the science of genetics, and here's why: I have a mother who takes dried brown stick things and turns them into beautiful thriving plants. I, on the other hand, can only take beautiful thriving plants and turn them into brown stick things. This is why God made hydrangeas.
You plug 'em in the ground, drizzle some water on 'em and voila! gorgeous bowers of blooms that won't quit all summer. Of course, my mom had hydrangeas, too. When she wasn't looking, we'd take the arm cover off the sofa to use as a veil, cut a cloud of white hydrangeas, kidnap Bobby Henry and make him play wedding with us.
People used to dye their hydrangeas blue and pink by watering them with diluted food coloring. Thanks to the wonders of horticulture, hydrangeas today come in the most beautiful range of whites, creams, pinks and blues. They last a really long time when you cut them which is why I have vases of them stowed in every room in the house. And they are gorgeous when they're dried.
My hydrangeas make me smile every time I look at them. Mostly because even I can't turn 'em into sticks.
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Beautiful flowers, Lori!!!!
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