The flowers I remember from growing up were old‐fashioned summer flowers: marigolds, zinnias, calendula, gladiolus, nasturtium, hollyhocks. We did have some spring bulbs, but they were difficult to naturalize. We also had mums in the fall. And the house I lived in most of my childhood had rose bushes along the front walk. That house also had a large bird of paradise beside the house, and poinsettias.
Moving East brought a whole new world of flowers to me. All sorts of plants that either can’t take the heat of Imperial Valley or need a colder winter period. Philadelphia, especially, had a long spring, and I grew to love the flowers of this season. Boston’s spring can go past very, very quickly, but I still enjoy it while I can.
Among my favorite flowers are those with heavy, sweet scents: lilacs, peonies, lilies‐of‐the‐valley. Lilacs are in full bloom here now, and I’ve seen some peonies in the neighborhood budding up. No lilies‐of‐the‐valley around here that I know of. Since a photograph cannot capture what I most love about those blossoms (not that they aren’t pretty, too!), I took some shots with my phone of another quirky favorite: quince. Their oh‐so‐short season is ending already.