I was taking a walk the other day when I ran across some flowers I hardly ever see and of which I would really like to know the name. My grandmother used to have these flowers hanging in a pot on her porch, and she liked them because they reminded her of tiny ballet dancers.
I can remember one later summer evening, in particular, in what must have been 1983 or 1984 when we talked about them. A couple of my cousins and I were sitting with her on her front porch watching the sun go down and eating peanut butter and celery. She was telling us how much she loved these flowers, and called them by a specific name that I can no longer recall. She said, "That's not really their name, but that's what we always called them when I was a little girl."
When I saw these flowers in front of someone's house the other evening, I had a brief moment when I thought, "I need to call her and ask her what she called those." And then I remembered, of course, that I could no longer do that.
I came home and tried to find them on the internet to at least find out their proper name, but to no avail. No one in my family seems to know what I'm talking about. But this evening I went for a walk to find them again, and took a picture so I could at least remember what they looked like.
I wish I could ask her about them.
1 comment:
Amie, they look like fuschias to me. My mom loves them and my father has gifted her with many of the plants over the years. Does that name sound familiar? I don't know of any other name for them, but my mom might if you want me to ask her.
It's so hard to think of something you want to ask or tell someone and to realize that you no longer can. That's been happening to me a lot lately.
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