Hydrangeas

These are just a few random shots of the hydrangeas that I took one day after work. I pulled my car in front of the house and happened to glance over at the hydrangeas. They were so beautiful and mysterious-looking. Little bobs of French blue and petal pink combining to a dignified lavender. I grabbed my camera from my purse and proceeded to photograph.

Mia came outside and found me in the garden. She asked me, "Mama, do you always have to take pictures?"

"Of course I do. Look how the light is shining on the hydrangeas," I replied.

To me the hydrangea epitomizes the Southern flower. As a child I often pretended that the big, snowy blossoms were Southern belles in their fluffy crimolines and hoopskirts. It withstands our blistering heat, long summer droughts, hard relentless rainstorms and it blooms from spring to autumn. It disapears only when the frost comes and stays and retreats underground to sleep in preparation for next year.

If there were such a thing as a regional flower for the South, I would hereby nominate the hydrangea.