I love fresh cut flowers. I have a whole side of my house dedicated to my “dahlia cutting garden.” When the forsythia blooms, most of my fair city claims spring has begun. I’m not nearly as optimistic as those folks. For good reason. We’ve broken 70° twice. Yup. Hear that y’all down in Texas. We’ve not even hit 75° this ENTIRE YEAR. Forsythia = Spring? Blah. Those people are delusional.
It’s when the peonies are out and when you are intoxicated by the scent of lilac on a walk through a dingy alley. That is when Spring arrives in this city. The alley behind our house is chock full of lilac, verbenum, some-kind-of-weed-bulb-thing-with-purple-flowers, blackberries and all kinds of other goodies. Peonies don’t grow in our alley, but they do grow in northwest Washington. And they sell them at the market.
Anyway. I love fresh flowers in the house, but can’t justify it when there is absolutely nothing blooming anywhere in my state. So. Peonies. They kick it off. And every Friday, I will have fresh blooms in my house until my dahlia plants get composted in October-November.
Welcome to Friday Flowers!