Every time I see beautiful zinnias in a flower garden, I think of my mother and how much she loved her flowers. She didn’t have very many pretty things to enjoy.
When I was child her life was an endless round of cooking, cleaning, washing clothes with an old wringer washing machine, hanging them out to dry winter and summer, ironing for hours at a time, and raising a huge vegetable garden with no equipment any more advanced than a simple hoe. She loved gardening and took delight in filling shelves with jars of beans, tomatoes, and corn. But her favorite part of gardening was the blazing bright color and beauty of the wide border of zinnias and marigolds all around the garden.
She always said the flowers kept bugs from bothering the vegetables. She was careful to explain that they didn’t cost anything extra because she saved her seeds from year to year, sometimes trading with friends and neighbors to get a new color or variety.
She wore faded flour sack house dresses most of the time. Her dishes were plain and mismatched. But she brightened the inside of our house with quilts she stitched from leftover sewing scraps, and crocheted pretty rag rugs from our worn out clothes.
And in the summer time, nobody in town was able to match the glory of her zinnias.
Z is for Zinnia, and this is my last post for the April 2014 A-Z Blogging Challenge.