One of my favorite flowers.
One of the first flowers I successfully grew as a kid.
When I was a teenager, they let me grow sweet peas on the south side of the house. I can't recall though if I was a decent shepherd of sweet peas. You know, if I had watered them regularly without being told. I doubt they would've told me if I forgot. Knowing the parents, they would've given the sweet peas a drink if they were watering in the area. The parents were great. I like to think they were impressed that I actually took an interest in growing stuff. I also planted Sweet Williams beneath a tree in the front yard, but they didn't do as well as the sweet peas.
Sweet Peas. Sweet Williams. Yup. I was attracted to the names.
This morning I collected sweet pea seed pods in the backyard. Their season went quickly. The sweetpeas in the picture are the last for this year. They're volunteers. I didn't even know there were sweet peas until I looked out the window of L Studio, which used to be the Mama's bedroom, the second or third morning of healing from my not-a-hysterical surgery. The sweet peas. The geraniums. The roses. The trees. The jungle that the Mama created. Looking out the window that morning, I recalled the Mama doing the same thing after she got up.
Quite calming. Quite tranquil. Quite quiet.