I love the pungency of marigolds, I love to grow them in my garden, the big, tall, puff-ball kind.  They go crazy and get huge, big yellow and orange pom poms, the size of my fist.  I love the way they smell. 

I have a chunk of fresh rosemary in the pocket of my t-shirt, stuck it there on the way to Kate and Adella’s birthday party.  Plucked it from the bush across the street as I was getting in my car, crushed it and smelled it and folded it in half and stuck it in my pocket.  One bottle of pink wine, minus the glass Chantal drank last night, a plateful of chocolate chip cookies and a big, colorful bouquet in a glass jar; yellow and copper-colored sunflowers, marigolds of course, indian blanket flowers, red and purple achillea, pale pink carnations, tall skinny purple statice-type flower, red and yellow Chinese lanterns hanging off to one side, one big dark red rose.  From my garden. Wonderful.


About Zahara

gardener, cyclist, student, mom,
This entry was posted in gardening. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to marigolds

  1. sdennard says:

    That’s a really nice post. It has a lovely rhythm to it. Thanks for sharing, Zahara!

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