This is a day for me to celebrate and remember. My first garden bed flower popped up to greet me this morning.

I buy my seeds in a dyslexic way; I look at the color of the flowers and choose the one I like. I can never remember their names unless they are Irises, Roses, or Pansies.

I’ve been dealing with Dyslexia all my life and was only diagnosed about ten years ago.  Because people often thought I was lazy or dumb, I figured out my ways to learn.

More than anything, I let go of what was confusing and focused on what wasn’t – writing words. We all do the best we can do. I have my way of choosing and growing flowers, as I have my way of doing everything.

I understand this upsets many people, especially those who are aroused at the prospect of correcting others.

They have made me strong and determined, for which I am grateful.

I started gardening the same way I started writing: no classes, no workshops, no mentors. I plunge in. This works well about one-half of the time; I am still learning the value of education.

The garden people have been gracious and helpful; they teach and guide me in a way I accept and appreciate. I am happy to learn from them. Something about having a garden seems to attract friendly and loving, and empathetic people.

Is that too much of a generalization?

This morning, when I went outside in this blazing sun, I saw the first garden bed flower of the year looking right at me. It’s a baby, but a beautiful blue flower, and I’m sure one of the garden people reading the blog will recognize the flower and let me know what it is.

I have grown especially fond of garden people; they give sound and accurate advice in a loving and caring way.

I know flowers are not a big deal for most gardeners, but they are a great big deal for me. I never planted a seed in my life until I married Maria and helped her build her gardens.

But to be honest, they are really her gardens. Now I have mine too.

I plan to bring flowers to almost everyone I know, as long as they last.

Last year, when I decided to build and grow my own garden, I got a raised garden ben from my Amish friends down the road.

This year, I got two more from my other friend John’s Country Power store. Each is a different size, and each has different kinds of flowers.

The Amish beds are great, but so are John’s.  They are very different. Lots of factors other than money go into buying a garden bed I see. I’m learning what’s best for me.

I am hooked on this flower thing and check the beds every day. And they are a great boon to my photography. Each new thing teaches me something I didn’t know.

So far, so good. I’m going to make sure fresh flowers are in the farmhouse every day, and I’ll bring one to the Millers, the Amish family just up the road once a week.

The Amish grow a lot of things, but not flowers. Too frivolous, I imagine. They seem to like getting them, though.