One of my earliest memories is a garden memory. I remember running ahead of a mower as my Dad mowed the lawn. In those days the mower was a push mower–no gas–I think they call them old fashioned reel mowers now. I wasn’t even 4 because my younger sister wasn’t born.

Anyway I was “saving” the Johnny Jump Ups (or violas) that had self sowed in the lawn from the mower blades.

These days, I still do the same thing. I always ask my husband–the Spoiler–to let me know before he mows so I can “save” these grape hyacinths that something–squirrels or perhaps even ants–have sowed for me in my own lawn.

I came home yesterday and the Spoiler had already mowed. But he’d carefully mowed around this little patch because he knows how much it means to me. Perhaps his name isn’t so well-deserved after all!

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