There was a long, narrow flower bed in the middle of the yard, dug into the side of a large rock (this was in Connecticut, where there are lots of large rocks). This bed already had flowers in it when we moved there in 1947. On one side there were lovely pink peonies. I loved how their tight little buds, which always had red ants crawling over them, would suddenly burst into gigantic, perfumey blooms. And next to them was a bunch of lily-of-the-valley, one of my very favorite flowers because of their delicacy and strong scent.
Next to our front door were two bushes, one with purple lilacs and the other with fuchsia azaleas. Lilac is my next favorite flower scent, and I used to love to cut bouquets of them and bring them inside just so I could stick my face into them every minute!
My sister Bertie and I used to plant annuals in a little plot next to the front door. We always planted marigolds and zinnias, for some unknown reason, maybe because they were so hardy and colorful.
I haven’t lived anywhere for a long time where I could plant flowers and I have to say I really miss it. But I’m enjoying my nostalgic flower moment right here.