My Gardening Angel

My Grandmother, whom I like to think of as my "Gardening Angel", is a tough act to follow when it comes getting down in the dirt.  I don't believe there was ever a blade of grass out of place in her yard and the gardens surrounding her quaint little house rivaled any I've seen at a botanical garden.  So this year, as I'm waffling on whether to put in my winter color, I of course thought of her.  She wouldn't hesitate a second to get down on her knees to pop the pert little plants into the earth for the reward of their happy faces throughout the winter months!  I'm inspired, but tired.  Sigh.

Off to the nursery I go bargaining with myself and deciding that if they don't have flats of Delta Blue, (my usual choice up against the white brick), it will be a sign and I'll just skip the whole process this year.  After all,  I reasoned, I was a bit late in getting to it in the first place and no one else in our neighborhood even goes to the trouble any more.  Feeling confident I pulled in with the little red car.  (It's the one you really don't want to mess the trunk up with potting soil.)  Shopping for them this late I just know I'm off the hook and can concentrate on Thanksgiving travel and Christmas.

In I marched and was immediately greeted by rows and rows and rows of violas in charming color combinations not assailed yet by brash pre-season Christmas greenery next to them.  My resolve was melting and their sweetness filled my heart.  Grandma was not playing fair.  Tuesday was a warm Autumn day in Atlanta and their fragrance was heavenly.  I admit that I truly suffer a genetic weakness when it comes to flowers.  At this point I'm still pretty sure they will be totally out of blue when then, up against the way back wall lay just enough flats to cover my raised beds.  Another sigh, maybe two.  Coincidence?  I don't think so.  Obviously my Gardening Angel at work -- I'm sure of it!  I'll just bet she hovered over those for a week knowing I'd be in here.  For Grandma, I buy them all.

Nothing says Fall like a few hundred pansies.  As today's gentle November rain settles in the roots on the perky little plants I'm thanking my dear Grandmother for a thumb not quite so green as hers but a heart willing to try.  Come spring they most certainly will be a fabulous compliment to the 200 new daffodil bulbs I planted the day before.  I know she is smiling and so am I.