I love flowers, but didn’t have them in my life for probably the last decade. It was touch and go getting some veggies started ahead of time from seed and taking them to the point they could be transplanted into the garden in the spring. The only flowers that got started from seed were marigolds, the wonder drug and pest deterrent of the garden.
I didn’t want to entirely give up, so I spent twenty some dollars on mixed flower seed packets, got my sons to till a patch near the house, and threw them down with some peat moss to scatter them. Up came lots and lots of grass. And more grass. At one point, it just looked like a huge grass patch. I decided to very carefully start pulling the grass, blade by blade. It was a slow, painful, labor of hope. My two youngest daughters started helping me. You couldn’t weed inwards easily without squashing the little plants just freed from grass, so there were some yoga like contortions to keep going. It took a handful of days, and I’d go in and out as much as I could find strength to contort, hold myself up in strange positions, and just kept extracting the grass bit by bit.
Near the end was when I took the fall and smashed my knee. When I was in my room crying, my two youngest daughters came in and told me they were going to finish what we ‘hoped’ would turn into a flower patch. It took them a couple more days, and then we watered and hoped.
Look what we have now!