I finally thought to bend down to see if my newest apple’s flowers had any scent to them.
Like a gardenia. Ohmygoodness. How did I miss out on this before. Dainty and demure and needing to be sought out but when you did, what a reward, sweeter even than those on the Fuji.
My neighbor whom I’d planted it for happened to arrive home just then and I called over to her and exclaimed over the flowers with her.
She’d almost missed noticing them. She was as thrilled as I was. Have I mentioned I really like having her next door?
I haven’t seen them blooming like this in a long time, with more to come.
Writing this, I suddenly realize I didn’t bend down to see if they, too, have any scent–but then they’re not the novelty the columnar apple is so if there were, you’d think I would know by now.
And me, I went looking–again–through the stash for yarn for a hat that a preemie in the NICU could wear. Came up empty again…almost. Maybe…but I would think that adding color, rather than adding to the endless white there would be the thing. And it absolutely has to be washable. I wistfully held a ball of pulverized pearl/bamboo blend the color of those irises, so soft, so (and she needs this) warm, discontinued (because it was too expensive to produce) and thus a rare gem for the perfect little girl I wanted to knit it for.
But so needing delicate hand washing, which just wasn’t going to happen in the hospital.
I’ll keep looking.