My Granny was known as "The Zinnia Lady." Every year I plant some as well, and I've always had great luck. Until this year. I planted a patch in Niki's yard but there was too much shade and they didn't do well. This was a bit traumatic for me because it's a way that I remember my Gran. She grew huge plots of the most vibrant, beautiful zinnias. They will always be one of my favorite flowers.
Gran was the quintessential Southern Lady: always put together, soft spoken and elegant. But she was full of it too, and she kept us on our toes. She was always telling us we, "Needed to go to charm school," or that, "We'd live to be a hundred," when little things seemed like a huge deal to us. Well, she didn't live to be 100 and I'm a bit miffed at her for that. She was truly our family matriarch and gatherings just seem incomplete without her, not to mention each week that passes that I can't call her.
I think the need for zinnias hit me yesterday because I had been thinking about her since church that morning. She was a prayer warrior for my sisters and I and she always ended phone conversations or visits with a prayer-blessing taken from Numbers 6. It happens to be the same verses they end Methodist services with, so I always leave church feeling watched over by her and a touch sad..