VIEW FROM HERE: A Metaphor in PINK

By Barbara McLaughlin
I DON’T want pink in my flower garden.
I don’t like pink. I don’t know why. It’s a visceral reaction that is not rational. I love my garden and imagine it as a riot of color all year long, though that is a work in progress. (Of course, no pink.) But pink seems to always show up, in the mixed seed packet, in the mixed 6 packs of annuals, in the mixed bulb bag. So I don’t buy mixed anything anymore. And pink still shows up, even in a seed pack that was supposed to be blue and white flowers. Pink flowers arrive by themselves, blown in by the wind or dropped by the birds or who knows from where. Is the Universe trying to tell me something?

So what do I do about the pink that still arrives without my planning or effort? Do I go to therapy to learn to love pink? No, I don’t think so. Do I go on a campaign to eradicate pink flowers? Ridiculous. So what do I do?

One of the pink plants that arrived has become a favorite because it did just show up. I don’t even know what it is so the mystery of what and how is intriguing. It’s a pretty shape, blooms for a while and is right by my stairs where I see it all the time. And it’s on the magenta end of pink so that makes it easier. Another pink plant came from my daughter in a card she sent embedded with seeds. When I see that plant, I get to think of my daughter. So, see Universe, I am embracing some pink.

The big pink breakthrough came just the other day when I was thinking about this. A few years ago before I stopped buying mixed things I got some parrot tulip bulbs. They have many petals, like a peony, and are full and beautiful. And of course some of them were pink. And I mean baby pink, the worst kind. So of course I couldn’t keep them. So I took pictures when they were in full bloom, tagged them and dug them up to take to the Garden Club annual sale. Some of them were snapped up by my friend Sue who laughs a lot and has a wonderful smile. Dare I say she was tickled pink to get them?