It’s early spring once again, time for the first-wave troop of bulb flowers (such as daffodils and crocuses) to put an end to the winter gloom. Another member of that little flower-army is the hyacinth, three of which just came into bloom out in front of my apartment house this weekend. These hyacinths turn out to have a rather bittersweet story behind them.
I’ve been renting in the same building now for over 20 years, and I’ve had a lot of neighbors come and go over the years. Two of the longer lasting ones have been Mr. R and Ms. P, who moved in to the apartment next to me back in 2006, i.e. about 10 years ago. They were both then in their early 60s and had just been married; second marriages for both, divorce for Mr. R and widowhood for Ms. P. Mr. R was something of a yeoman lawyer, a fellow who was gainfully employed but never got rich off of it. Ms. P, however, was something of a “lady of leisure”. Her biggest purpose in life seemed to be growing plants and flowers. During her years here with R, Ms. P put a lot of effort into planting a wide variety of decorative plants. Including these hyacinths.
From outward appearances, R and P were the perfect couple. I got to know them and even socialized with them a handful of times. They were both intelligent and cultured, very good conversationalists. Mr. R was from Massachusetts, and Ms. P was a British subject who had grown up in Africa. Years later, I had found out that » continue reading …