Muscari racemosum

Grape hyacinths remind me of Mom, not so much because she liked them, but because I did. I have always preferred beauty that is delicate and understated to that which is showy. Besides, I can't resist a blue flower. When I was a little boy, whenever we visited a garden centre or ordered seeds Mom would let me choose something. When we bought bedding plants in spring I would usually choose pansies or Portulaca. In the fall bulb catalogues I gravitated to grape hyacinths. Funny thing is, I don't like them as much anymore. They look like candy with too much sugar and food colouring. But they still bring back memories of helping Mom plant bulbs in the fall. While she arranged clumbs of tulips and daffodils, I would stick the miniature hyacinth bulbs in a row along the front of the border.

My parents don't care for hot weather, so they prefer to retreat to the cottage after July 1. They don't put much work into the summer garden, because after they leave they must rely on neighbours to give it a minimum of maintenance. But up until June the garden at Poplar Bluff is resplendent. I miss seeing it this time of year. Mom is particularly fond of daffodils—she has hundreds of them—and irises. She likes the heady aroma of showy hyacinths, too.

She even has a few grape hyacinths. I wonder if they reminder her of me?