The hanging plant that my parents got for my front porch when they visited in April is almost dead. My vegetable garden, on the other hand, is doing great so far. It’s so much easier to care about things that are going to feed you than about things that just look nice. For me, at least. Flower gardeners surely feel differently. Maybe most people do. But I’m the type of woman who will spend an hour cooking a meal and many hours raising a garden or knitting a sweater but won’t spend more than 30 seconds dealing with her hair. Or makeup. Or outfit. A real 20-something frump, in other words.
But even my tribe appreciates beauty, both of the practical nature (squash vines look so wonderfully strong) and of the purely aesthetic variety. My Early Mohawk Beans bloomed today. The flowers are delicate, shell-shaped, and lightly tinged with lavender. I spent enough time admiring them that my neighbor, who is often out on her porch smoking a cigarette, must have questioned my sanity.
Superlative blossoms. But I won’t replant the variety if the beans don’t taste just as good.