This is just one slice of the hyacinth experience. The other part is the heavy scent, so deliciously syrupy that even a smelling-impaired person like myself can discern the perfume. I moved a platter full of the apricot-colored "Gypsy Queen" bulbs down to the dining room sideboard so that I could enjoy the sweet waves as I sat working with my sewing machine at the table nearby. I was floating in a happy little hyacinth bubble, unbothered by the challenges usually posed ripping out seams, trimming and re-trimming, and laboriously matching up quilt blocks. A good place to spend a winter weekend.
1 comment:
I love hyacinths, but somehow they just don't do what they are supposed to, in a hyacinth glass, or in the garden. I've about given up, although I haven't dug up the wretched things in the border.
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