In praise of zinnias

When we remember someone who has passed on, there are certain things that will bring fond associations.  My maternal grandmother passed from this life this week.  Her trials are done.  As she said in a poem she wrote, she is "shining over on the other side."  One of the things that makes me think of Granny is zinnias.  She always had a row of zinnias along the edge of the garden or the field.  
This year I gave Mom a mug for Mother's Day.  To keep from giving it empty, I put in a few pieces of candy and a packet of zinnias.  I think Mom was more tickled with the packet of seeds than anything else.  Mom gladly reported how quickly her seeds emerged and then when they bloomed, what colors there were.  At first she had five shades of pinks, corals, and salmon.  Then she got a couple of very lovely, clear bright orange ones.  She reported that just in the last week or so, she has gotten a white one. 
After buying the packet for Mom, I decided I should spring for a packet for myself.  I planted only some of the seeds.  Seven plants survived and I transplanted four of them to a separate location.  They have all bloomed, and I'm "in the pink."  All seven of mine managed to be one shade or another of pink.

 

As you can see from this picture, one of the zinnias is 4 1/2' tall.  (Not as tall as Caleb, though!)

Of course there was a time, when the zinnias were taller than he was.  (Doesn't seem so long ago.)

 

And of course, there was the in-between stage.

 

 

Plant a row of zinnias and spread some cheer.