ZINNIAS

And this year’s new veranda flower is …………Zinnia!
“You’ll like zinnias,” Sandra said when she heard the announcement. “They are big bright flowers. Mom used to grow them.”
I’m not sure why we haven’t grown zinnias before. Probably it’s because the greenhouse flowers tend to be laid out in alphabetical order and our trays are usually overflowing by the time we get to the petunias. In the flower world, as in the people world, there are advantages to having a name that’s closer to A. Still it is surprising that we never got zinnias. They were already in flower when we brought them home, and even when our trays are full, we can often find a finger to balance one extra blooming carton And now they flourish in the #2 long cedar planter, their multi-coloured splendour growing bigger and brighter every day. “They’re so perfect,” says Amy giving them the practiced planter’s eye. “You’d almost think they were plastic.”
Meanwhile, in planters #4 and #5, last year’s new flowers—asters and amaranthus--are making a comeback. Amaranthus seeded a few of her own babies, just in case we decided not to replant. But she needn’t have worried. We couldn’t forget those long dangly flowers. We made an extra greenhouse visit for amaranthus.
“I don’t see any sign of flowers on the asters,” says David.
I remind him that we got the asters last year knowing full well we would have to wait for August blooms. I assure him that we thought they were worth the wait. I know this because I wrote it down. Experience has taught me to write everything down about flowers, especially the things I feel certain I cannot forget. We are expecting amaranthus flowers in July. And if only I had written about the purple bearded iris, I would know who gave it to us. I must have thought I would never forget. Maybe it was one of the few original flowers that greeted us from their mint-infested beds when we bought the house.
But the award for big flower surprise of this year will have to be given to the sweet peas that self-seeded from last year’s crop. Some of them will be in flower by the end of the week. A June flowering? Whoever heard of such a thing? We have not known sweet peas to self-seed in thirty-two summers of sweet pea growing in three different yards why this year? And why did they take root four feet from the original location, several inches below the ground? Why were there so many—maybe thirty?
Could have been something quirky in the weather. Could have been some special variety. We never kept records of sweet pea seeds. The truth is, we don’t know. Maybe we will never know. Just as we cannot now anticipate next year’s new flower. Will its name start with E, or even U? It’s this evidence in support of the unexpected that keeps us interested, keeps us hoping.