When I was growing up in Columbus, there was a flower box on either side of the front steps of our family home, and another flower box that went the width of the living room picture window above the fitzer bushes. In the flower boxes on both sides of the front porch Mom put purple flox. In the window box beneath the picture window she put a variety of things. I remember that there were roses for a time, probably until she realized that roses were a pain. (Or maybe I’m externalizing my personal experience with roses.) But for many of the years we lived in that house, she planted geraniums in that box. Good ol’ red geraniums.

Our Columbus home many years after we moved away. The tree to the left was a linden tree when we lived there, and there wasn’t grass growing in the driveway or the sidewalk. In fact, there wasn’t even a sidewalk!

Even though the flower growing season in the mountain towns of Leadville and Dillon, Colorado, where they lived for the next 15 years or so, was short, she always had a pot or two of geraniums. Red geraniums.

And then when they finally really retired (instead of calling working an 8-hour day where you get a paycheck from someone else being retired) and moved to Fort Collins, there were always geraniums in the flower box next to the driveway. Red geraniums.

So it isn’t surprising that the one constant in my flower-growing experiences for the 37 years or so that I have been a home owner has been geraniums. Mostly red geraniums. Once in a while, when I’m at a garden store that offers a variety of geranium colors, I’m tempted. I have occasionally succombed. But in the end, my favorite geraniums are red.

I always, always — every single time — think of my mother when I plant my pots of geraniums. If they didn’t have geraniums in heaven before she arrived, I’m certain they do now. Mom could be quite convincing….

Have a great Memorial Day weekend.