This morning I walked the dogs, usually my husband's task, but it's rainy and his back is bothering him. I had a whirling vision of blue flowers, as I tugged and guided the dogs on their haphazard way. Many people are planting blue, or blue is taking over the gardens, or I'm becoming colorblind. The blue forget-me-nots have volunteered themselves all over our yard and the neighbors, but there seemed to be delphiniums and many other bluenesses everywhere we went. I like that. Though if asked, I say I like white flowers best, my favorite flower is the daffodil. I think I don't like pink flowers, but then there are peonies up the street, a hot pink, that I covet every time I walk by. And a pale pink hyacinth or baby rose - they've got me at hello. I used to adore the sterling silver rose, but now I have a fondness for the red/black rose, and one bush grows in my front yard. Purple is good, and any color of pansy sends me back to childhood, and my mother's vase, clear glass, dome shaped, with holes for each pansy. I did think they were faces and connected with fairies. We have two volunteer foxgloves in the front, pink with freckles, and though their leaves are hairy and not lovely, the tallness and dignity of the plants have won me over. My grandmother had hollyhocks and sunflowers, and these tall strangers remind me of them.
So, I guess I like just about every single flower and color. A field of daffodils is a definite heartstopper, but barring that sight, I'm happy with the neighbors' offerings, and if it's blue du jour, then bleu it is.
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