Flowers for my Mom

My Mother loved hydrangeas; she loved the way those big balls looked like cotton candy when the plant is in full bloom. Her eyes would just light up in such a way it almost seemed as if she were going to cry at the sight of such beauty. She once worked with a woman from Brazil who regaled her with stories as to how in Brazil they grew like wildflowers and there were fields covered with hydrangea bushes in bloom. She would close her eyes and imagine this infinite landscape of these beautiful flowers, and in her mind they were always pink. Unfortunately, my Mother lived in Miami Florida where the climate, sandy soil and hydrangeas don't mix. Every year she would buy the plants that were set out at Easter, 3 or 4 at least, and replant them framing the front of the house. When she planted them they were always in prolific bloom and they were always pink. She then proceeded to tend to them daily as if they were newborn babies only to be crushed once they were wilted and dead within a month. Then finally she gave up; all illusions shattered. Imagine her pure joy when I moved to New Jersey where the climate and acidic soil are just made for hydrangeas and they grow like wildflowers. When I told her she was ecstatic, and every year if she hadn't visited at the right time I would make sure to send her pictures of the plants in full bloom. She would swoon. My hydrangeas are now in full bloom, except mine are blue. Here you go Mom.

and sometimes pink

or white

or both