I love flowers. I mean...I love them. Truly. I get so excited when the first hint of spring arrives and the stores all of a sudden have a plethora of gorgeous blooms and I feel like they are all screaming "take me home and plant me and care for me and watch me grow!" So I spend a fortune on whatever I think is the prettiest (not necessarily giving thought to burdensome things like watering, sunlight, soil conditions, etc. Bleh!). I get home with all my new beauties, put them in pretty pots and then in a few weeks toss them in the trash can when they die.
And they always die.
It's a sad little cycle and I do it every single year. Every. Single. Year.
Except for this year. I've been too busy unpacking boxes and lining drawers and cabinets to notice that it was time to kill some pretty flowers again.
I walked into the backyard the other night and was trying to get to the water hose and had to scramble behind some gnarly, bare looking bushes with these prickly sticky things all over them when I recognized that these were....
And within just a few days they had leaves.
And then buds.
I'm so excited. Even though I don't know nothin' bout birthin' no roses.
Wish me luck.
Better yet....wish them luck.