Several weeks ago, as I took a trowel out of my car trunk and headed into the park*, I was reminded of my Nanna, may she rest in peace.
She and her sister Violet were a pair of terrors. Nanna was clever and witty and very funny. (Violet was famous in the family for making gigantic polyester crocheted afghans.) They were very thrifty, too.
Violet kept a folding Army shovel in the trunk of her car.
One day, Nanna and Violet were out driving in the countryside and they saw a lovely hydrangea bush. Behind the house, there was an auction going on. So they figured the hydrangea wasn't being taken care of properly.
So they dug it up and put it in the trunk.
When they got back Nanna planted it by her front door. Grandpa Fred, who was a man of few words, looked at it, and looked at Nanna. 'Needs pruned,' he said, and walked into the house.
I told Dad I'd inherited the plant-stealing tendencies. He laughed.
Lily of the valley. It grows in the park! (So I didn't have to steal it from someone's yard. Which I totally would have.)
*This is not a wilderness-y park. In fact, it is paved over in much of it. And the lily-of-the-valley is there b/c it escaped from someone's yard. Should I not have dug it up? Of course not. But I did anyways. I'm a bad person, I know.
(P.S. Sometime I should tell you about all the crazy things I've seen in the park. Not the least entertaining was this short dude in overalls emerging from the brush with a sawed-off shotgun. WALK FASTER NOW.)