My grandmother had the greenest of thumbs. She transformed the small dirt farm gifted to her as a newly wed into a garden that bloomed nearly year round. Everywhere I looked as a child I would find flowers growing and some new flower for each season, and of course she knew the names for every single plant. She tried to teach me, bless her, but beyond memorizing the names, I did not learn how to have a thriving flower garden.
One thing I vividly remember is the white hydrangeas that grew on the south side of her farm house. She tended all her flowers carefully and daily, even on the hottest of summer days, but the hydrangeas being so close to the house got a little extra water and a little extra attention, which is perhaps why they thrived.
The side of the house transformed into great white snowballs that when given the slightest shake would rain down gentle snowflake petals. So, of course I shook the plants excessively and pretended I had entered a magical realm that had snow in summer. My grandmother rarely scolded me, but if she did it probably had something to do with me disturbing her flowers and I remember receiving a hearty scolding for that.
When I grew up and had little ones of my own, i spent several years living in her old house. Previous tenants fearful of snakes or perhaps they were just insane, decided to rip out all the flowers and cover over every single flowerbed. Not a single hydrangea survived. I tried in vain to plant some new flowers each year, but very few of them survived a single season because, as I mentioned, I did not inherit her gift for growing things.
I did however, inherit her tenacity. I can't imagine she turned a dirt farm into a floral paradise overnight, or even over the course of a year or two. She must have kept on, year after year, until she finally saw some results, and so did I.
While living in Japan, I noticed that our house had a tiny strip of dirt along the front walk that would be perfect for a few flowers. Thinking of my dear little grandmother, I selected some pale pink hydrangeas from a local market and planted all along the walk way, knowing I wouldn't be able to take them with me when I left, but hoping they would be around to brighten the life of the next family to move into our home. And then something unexpected happened.
I watched over the course of the next few weeks as my pale pink hydrangeas began to change to pale purple. I didn't know much about hydrangeas at the time and thought it was perhaps just part of their life cycle to change a little in color as leaves do before they fall.
The next spring my plants returned and I was thrilled at finally having something survive the winter and my casual neglect. The full pom-pom blossoms began to grow and each day I checked them with building excitement. When they did bloom I was shocked to see not a single pink blossom in the whole row. Every single flower was now darkest purple.
Neighbors passing by constantly stopped to compliment the flowers and ask me how I had got them to be that color. One asked if I'd planted them on top of pennies to which I replied that not only did I not bring any pennies with me to Japan, but also nothing I do when it comes to flower gardening is deliberate.
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The hydrangeas thrived in spite of my ignorance on their proper care and have hopefully continued to make passersby stop and stare a moment at something so lovely, because as it turns out deep purple hydrangeas are the most difficult shade to obtain.
When it comes to these lovely flowers, their color has less to do with genetic inheritance and more to do with the pH of the soil. A low pH creates blue hydrangeas and a high pH creates pink.