It’s been a while since I’ve written anything really stupid, so let’s do this.
It’s spring, and things are turning lovely. Fresh, green growth everywhere and… flowers. Lots and lots of flowers.
I have a complicated relationship with flowers. There are some I just don’t like.
A graduate student living with us once tried to figure it out. “You’re telling me you don’t like a flower?”
I like most flowers. And I’m especially drawn to smaller flowers. That includes dandelions, a flower I should not like because it’s an invasive weed. Yet there on top of that weed is a little drop of yellow sunshine.
And who doesn’t like blowing the seedhead of a mature dandelion, scattering those dadgum weed seeds all over the place to create more weeds that need killin’?!
You could argue that dandelions have a true place in this world because they can be made into wine, because they can be. That doesn’t mean they should be.
I mean, if I could make wine out of dirty socks, should I?
“Mmm, taste like… feet!”
Rather than list all of the flowers that appeal to me, here’s my top three least-liked, starting with…
3. Daylilies. Folks dedicate entire gardens to these stately flowers, and while I admit they come in some beautiful colors, there’s something about them I don’t like. They’re like a flower on a stick. A tall, gangly stick with a colorful thing on the end of it.
Fact is, I don’t like most lilies. The big ones, anyway. The little bitty ones are cute.
So why do I like poker plants so much? It’s color on a stick. In fact, it’s a lily. A torch lily. Makes no sense.
2. Hydrangeas. Every year, there are people that fill their social feeds with pictures of their enormous, colorful hydrangeas in various shades of blue, pink and purple. I hate ‘em.
If we had hydrangeas, I’d probably get a dog just so he could hike a leg on them. I might even join him.
1. At the top of my least-liked list is… the gladiola. Every single gladiola I see sends out a message. A loud and clear message with a megaphone: SOMEBODY DONE DIED!!!
I don’t know how gladiolas became the official flower of the funeral, but that’s how I see them.
Feel free to have gladiolas at my funeral just to mess with me, but I’ll haunt you from the grave, if you do.
And here’s a little something for my tombstone:
HERE LIES TIBBY
ALWAYS HALF CRAZY
DIDN’T LIKE FLOWERS
NOW PUSHING UP DAISIES
