It's amazing to consider how much of my life's story can be told through a plant.
When I was a little girl my bedroom window looked out onto a cherry tree. Under the cherry tree was a blue hydrangea.
I knew it was summer because the hydrangea bloomed.
The hydrangea meant plums would be coming soon.
It meant the garden would smell of its freshly turned dirt.
It meant it was only a few weeks to breaking green beans while watching The Muppet Show.
And summer meant freedom to explore. Life. Smells. Colors. Tastes...
And lightening bugs.
