Springtime Hobbit

I firmly believe that in the afterlife we will live in the restored Garden of Eden planting flowers and reveling in the smell of fresh, black earth. I'm much like one of Tolkien's hobbits in that respect, where my heart truly lies "is in peace and quiet and good tilled earth; for all hobbits share a love for things that grow."

Tef and I've given up the purchase of anything that's not buyable at the grocery store until after Lent so my Spring garden is on hold. But ohhhh... the daydreams I am having about these pretties.




























Peonies -- which were all I used for my wedding. And which also grow in my mother's garden. They make me think of genteel Southern women in soft candlelit ball gowns.


























Hollyhocks. In this case, double hollyhocks. Hollyhocks and the hydrangeas (below) make me think immediately of my grandmother's garden... Sevin dust and ripe tomatoes. Shucking corn and snapping beans. Damp dirt, tree roots and old stone. Cigarette smoke and fry-grease at the screen door to the kitchen. Cold biscuits and honey butter... As a child I thought the hydrangeas were funny looking and a little marmish. They reminded me of old-lady bathing caps. But as I've gotten older, I've started to see the appeal. Maybe they're, like, the beer of the flowering shrub.

Hollyhocks are tall slender arsenals of summer color. They sleep silently all winter, motionless and gray. And then one week in early summer they grow three feet. After that they take off and rise to towering, standing sentinel above your head just singing. Mostly bluegrass. They'd look great up against the fence in the back yard. And then I'd get to say hollyhock all the time.

Hollyhock, hollyhock, hollyhock...