I have two purple thumbs when it comes to gardening. It’s a miracle if the primroses I plunk into my planter boxes each spring make it through the first month without giving up the ghost.
Nevertheless, I persist in attempting to grow one measly 10-foot row of sweet peas in my yard every year. Sweet peas were Gramps’ favorite flower, and they’re high on my list too. The sweet, sweet fragrance of even a few small blooms is almost palpable when brought inside the house.
I mulched with potting soil. I soaked the seeds. I tilled the row and prepped the ground with loving care. I planted them on March 5, Gramps’ birthday, so they would get a jumpstart on the season. But we had a cold snap in March, and I didn’t see sprouts until the first week of April.
But now they’re a whole inch high, with the first leaves showing, and once again I have hope for an abundance of flowers to enjoy all summer long.
That’s the plan, and I’m sticking to it.
