I decided that these were not the Commander Hybrid Zucchini seeds their package advertised; no, surely seeds as blue and sparkly as these would grow into, if not a beanstalk reaching into the heavens, at least a glittery shrub or a tree that only produces bedazzled fruit. So far the seedlings that are coming up look suspiciously ordinary, not a gem in sight. (Note: Do yourself a favor and DO NOT do a google image search for "bedazzled zucchini." The internet is a strange place, y'all.) Raise your hand if you suspect these are the kind of seeds God used to plant the Garden of Eden. And yes, I realize he spoke it all into existence, but the image of God hoeing rows in a divinely tidy garden, pausing every so often to glance down in annoyance at the hem of his soiled robe- well, it really tickles me. No worries, though, he'd just say "CLEAN" or something and the stains would evaporate. They didn't have Oxiclean back then, you know.
What has happened to this post? Hijacked yet again by God and gardens.
Does anyone have any legitimate knowledge about why these seeds look this way? Not that my theories are completely implausible or anything. You were so helpful yesterday- that mystery white flower is columbine! (Thanks, Common Household Mom and Cassi Renee!) I confirmed it today by going by the flower stand I bought them from, and sure enough, there they were. I celebrated by picking up some Clementine Dark Purple and Clementine Blue varieties of columbine, because I thought the white looked awfully lonely, didn't you?
In other, scarcely related gardening news: Hyacinth-wise, I had a terrible year. The Midnight hyacinths came back for their third or maybe it's fourth year, but they looked as if they were doing so under protest. Scraggly and wilted-looking from the first day they bloomed, I do believe it's time to yank them out. I had five promising-looking shoots whose photo I'm pretty sure I optimistically posted about a month ago, but as it turns out, I didn't plant them in a sunny enough location; the iris and hostas around them grew up and over them enough to block their much-needed sunlight. They never did flower, nor did all but one of the hyacinths I planted next to the steps of the front porch. Again, not enough sunlight. I might try to dig those up and put them somewhere else, see if they'll do anything next spring.
|My lone flowering hyacinth of the year. I did love its peach color.|
I was a little surprised at myself, adding those yellow Gerbera daisies; I generally find Gerberas to be fickle and high maintenance, and since I don't truck with divas, even the flowering variety, I usually avoid them except for maybe a sneer thrown their way when I'm in the nursery picking out my easy-going petunias and lantana (which I have yet to find this year).
Now I'm off to go plant the new columbine. I'll be sure to talk to them about making new friends and not leaving anyone out, and warn them against those awkward ice breaker games everyone's forced to play when forming a new group. (Hey, have I ever told you guys about the time I went to a Mom's group at my church in Connecticut, somehow got seated at a table with Rich Connecticut Women, but somehow couldn't find anything in common with them during the get-to-know-you game that consisted of the instructions "Find something everyone at your table has in common, and no cheating with things like blue eyes and nose jobs!" I have no idea why we couldn't find any common ground, what with their suggestions consisting of things like, "Okay, who has at least four fireplaces in their house? Well, what about just three?" and "We all went to Tuscany within the last year, right?" Meanwhile I'm there like, "I live in a 600-square-foot condo and I know I'm in a church but I'm pretty sure even Jesus would have a hard time loving on all of you." Good times.)