I love gardenias, they are my all time favorite flower. The purity of the white petals with just a touch of pale green when they first open; the incredible scent; the design of the petals overlapping; and I love the memories of past corsages and bouquets.
I had my tonsils out as a child and nearly bled out. When I finally arrived home I had a pillow corsage of gardenias to help me heal. Other illness my grandmother bought me pillow corsages. And of course gardenias were the flower of choice for the big dances. And the major gift was my wedding bouquet with out of season gardenias. I can only imagine what that cost Marty.
Through the years Marty has grown gardenias for me if the climate allowed. He even grew them in our greenhouse when we lived in Louisville, KY. It is such a joy to pick them and have them around the house. The beauty and the scent are wonderful.
We have one gardenia left on the hill. (It is at the top of the steps by the street. This factors into the story. ) Nasty hairballs took out the others. And we have an invasive fern that tries to choke out everything. But this little plant is a fighter. In spite of Marty feeding it, praying over it, this is a sickly plant. It is scraggly, leaves have a yellow cast, and the fern keeps stealing the sunlight. Yet this little plant is full of buds and flowers. Every year it blooms its heart out. Heaven in our yard.
Every day I note which buds are close to picking. I check on them when I get the paper and again when I get the mail. I pull out the nasty fern. And I love to come in with two or three flowers for the breakfast table.
Late yesterday afternoon I saw several buds nearly open. I knew this morning I could pick lots of them for the table. Well, that didn't work out. This morning they weren't there. Some low life person walking by picked them. I am sorry, that is just stealing. If you really want one of my precious gardenia blooms, come ring the door bell. I will share, and I have shared.
I know tomorrow there will be more blooms, but this ticked me off.