Hydrangeas are my favorite flowers, but I’m not sure the feeling is mutual. It’s a mystery, how I drive past a falling-down building in the wine country with giant old hydrangeas still marching up to the roof line, while I’m lucky if mine grow to be knee-high. I’ve planted every color and every style and tried suggestions I find online.  Still, they don’t really flourish for me.

I’m indulging in a few hydrangea fantasies today. These, for instance are not my flowers, not my picket fence. A girl can dream.  These are from The Greenery Nursery and garden shop in Turlock, a bit south of me,  in the center of California.


Again, not mine. These are from  High Hand Nursery & Cafe, Loomis, California.






I’ve never been able to grow the white ones. These are showing off at a Colin Cowie-designed wedding.









Ta da! Mine.  It’s a sweet little bouquet for the kitchen table, but this is almost the total  crop from one plant.  Only a few more blossoms appeared later. Sigh.