Onion Flowers

Every spring some of the first long green hairs of new growth in my yard are the curled tendrils of onion grass.  They rudely show their dark green bobbing tendrils in the midst of my sleepy grass and stubby weeds, demonstrating my poor lawn care.  They also let me know that winter is almost over; a sweet greeting from an aromatic weed.

As the recipient of a transplanted kidney I am encouraged to forgo gardening.  I may garden - if and only if, I wear long pants tucked into socks, boots, long sleeves gloves, hat and an N94 dust/particle mask.  After gardening I must immediately remove all said items and wash the clothes, discard the mask and shower.  I no longer garden.

This means that my family must pick up the slack.  I gardened all my life, not well mind you, but I pulled weeds and planted things; flowers, veggies, trees. Most are still around the yard and most require weeding. When my husband weeds, very little is left behind, he is very tidy. This year he has been very busy and the weeds are having a great time in the garden.

I like to photograph plants and so I have taken photos of the weeds, as they have grown with wild abandon. The onions have reached a height of three to four feet and last week showed a cap of what looks to me like Phyllis Diller's wig, only green:

I was delighted.  

This week I was astonished. I thought last week was the height of their display.  It was not: they bloom.

I have a garden full of these flowers soon to be followed by lovely pearlescent seed heads.

Many onions appear in the gardens of our lives.  We are quick to weed what does not belong, to replace it with something less aromatic and  more spectacular in its' display.  The Iris I expect to bloom, and I am delighted when they do; so it is with my other plants.  The joy of astonishment comes from the surprise, not only of something totally new to me, but so very unexpected.

I will be more mindful of what I weed in my life. Stop and smell the onions too.