Today after dinner I showed our younger daughter the photos I'd taken of HG's garden yesterday, some particularly good shots of the blueberry bush's blooms, and she said, "Oh, Mom, have you seen the pansies?" "Pansies??" I asked.
"Yeah, I helped Dad plant pansies today...oh, maybe that was supposed to be a surprise...come on outside and see."
Well, did they ever plant pansies, of every shade! Knowing that pansies are my favorite, every box on the deck (which last year held tomatoes and peppers) was lovingly filled with young bedding plants. What a sweetheart he is! That is his love language: he may not always say the right words, but he shows how much he cares by thoughtful gestures like this.
I'll admit that in our early years together, I wasn't so keen on this type of gift. I mean, I would have preferred a dozen roses to the pathetic-looking bush he planted for my first Mother's Day. But over the years, that barren twig has yielded hundreds of fragrant blooms, while that vase of roses I thought was better would be so much compost. So now I have a redbud tree, a gorgeous lilac, that Tropicana rosebush, and a porch full of pansy plants courtesy of my humble gardener.
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