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Here is what my mother said when she saw that I was planting flowers and herbs between the flagstones of the walk to my front door: "No."
She had more to say: "WhatEVER in the world made you think of that?" Finally she burst out, "You just CAN'T!"
Of course, as mother and daughter we'd had this exact conversation about many things before. So I have to admit I felt a little leftover rebellious teenager satisfaction when I went against her expressed wish and planted yellow pansies, white allysum and clumps of thyme here and there in my walkway.
"Sure," I explained, "I realize people will step on them as they arrive--but that will release their scent and fragrance will fill the air."
But she wasn't having any of it and, being a woman of Irish descent, predicted death for all (especially the pansies) within days.
But that hasn't happened. The allysum has flourished, and the thyme seems very happy living in the hot and dry landscape of the walkway stones. However, planting flowers to be trodden upon does seem to prompt strong opinions. The woman in the white canvas hat who often walks by my garden stopped especially to tell me that she loved it. On the other hand, a friend of mine said he thought it was quite weird. And once while I was sitting hidden on my porch, I overheard a conversation between two people discussing the cost-benefit ratio of such a scheme.
But the flowers don't seem to mind a bit. I, myself, like to gently step on the lemon-scented thyme that I planted right in the middle of the walkway whenever I come home, and its fresh, somehow old-fashioned fragrance, lingers about me as I put the key in the door. Even my mother is coming around to the idea – which means only one thing: either I'll have to find other avenues of leftover teenage rebelliousness, or I'll have to grow up. It's not going to be an easy choice.