She’s as breathtaking as the summer breeze, as fresh as a spring morning. And if you’re really lucky, she’ll hang around to match the beauty of any fall evening—the hydrangea. Whether in gloriously large pom-pom bundles or classic lace-cap style, as a potted plant or a whole bush of extravagance, in my mind, the hydrangea always radiates classic Southern charm. It embodies everything we Southern women hope to be: strong, long lasting, dependable. Breathtakingly beautiful. And each time I see one, smell one, touch one, lovingly pluck one for display in my small apartment that needs it so, I’m reminded of my South Alabama childhood. I can taste the sweet tea, hear my Memaw’s giggle, feel the tingling in my stomach I always got on the tree swing in her front yard. Those feelings, those memories, those tiny glimmers of pure joy I am able to find even in my busy life as a graduate student, aspiring writer, and flower intern, simply by glimpsing the flower of my past, never grow old. And just like my Memaw’s love, sweet Southern summers, and timeless elegance, the hydrangea never goes out of style.
