Wandering around the garden department, thinking about the garden I won’t have this year because I do not have a yard! Then, my thoughts turn to all the gardens I have grown. Zucchini, potatoes, peppers. In recent years, flowers too. Dahlias, zinnia, hollyhocks. I pause at the display of red geraniums. Memories flood in, including a dozen clay pots of red geraniums arranged on brick stairs leading up to a front door. I remember the duller red clay pots and red clay brick stairs contrasting with the vibrant flowers. The house stood on one corner of a busy intersection, and each time I stopped for the red light, my eyes and thoughts wandered to that porch. Yep, always red geraniums. Somehow, I projected onto them my hopes for the future, for a house with brick steps and red geraniums. To my 20-something mind, red geraniums in clay pots symbolized a happy, settled life.
I never really settled, at least not for long. I often brought home red geraniums to beautify my porch, but over time, they began to symbolize what had passed instead of the future. The house at the intersection. Dreams imagined while waiting at the stop light but never fulfilled. Broken dreams.
My spell breaks when I realize that I have company at the geranium display. I look up and see a woman in her 80s. She is silent too, looking with great affection at the vibrant red geranium starts. I feel moved to connect with her, and sigh as I ask, “Are they your favorites, too?”
“Oh yes, I buy them every spring and put them on my porch in large red clay pots. I tried to overwinter them inside, but they get too spindly.” She sighs too and continues, “They bring back so many memories. I will grow them as long as I can, even in the nursing home if I get to that kind of place. My kids will have to bring them.”
All I can muster is a meek, “I love them too. They have to be red. The pink or white ones are not the same. Maybe my son will bring them to me as well!”
Surrounded by red geraniums is not such a bad thing in those final years. Something to look forward too. Something to keep the mind sharp. It’s time for red geraniums!
When my mother died at the age of 94, my niece brought pots of red geraniums to be distributed to all of the attendees at her ‘Celebration of Life’. My mother loved red geraniums, and grew them in every home she lived in—even her last home, a retirement village. The plants survived for many years, re-potted and swapped among our family, and one daughter has one to this day. It was a lovely thought. My plant did not survive longer than 2 years, but the photos of it will last forever!
Thanks for sharing your red geranium story. I will put that same idea in my celebration of life list!