Gardeners are nice people

Okay, maybe all gardeners aren't but, in my experience, it has seemed they are. There is just something about those who grow plants that makes them inherently nice as they desire to share their produce, their seeds, their knowledge. Perhaps close proximity to plants mellows one or is it the soil? Well whatever it is, over and over again, in my life, I have been blessed by their bounty.

In Palo Alto, at least the area where I was staying, the homes are generally moderate in size, craftsmen, Spanish in influence, bungalows-- their gardens lush with flowers and the streets narrow with often no sidewalk but many tall trees. I love it. This part of Palo Alto, a mile or so from Stanford University, has an aura of uniqueness, of intellect, of peacefulness-- even though only a few blocks off the busy El Camino Real.

The house to the right looked to be owner designed, maybe built, and to the right of it was a small set of pens for either goats, chickens or even sheep. Unoccupied at the moment, they looked well kept and ready for a future resident.

There are other Palo Altos-- the ritzy one, the poor one; but I am writing about the in between one. By in between, that doesn't mean inexpensive. Even small houses with little lots can easily run half a million dollars or more, but that doesn't mean it's not in between-- for where it is.

On this particular walk, I had headed out into the back streets and hadn't taken my camera. I got about three blocks from the motel and remembered it. Okay, I thought, it won't matter. What can I see that I just have to photograph? I found it one block farther and turned around. The day was hot. Did I mention that? I wasn't eager to go back to the motel, but I simply had to photograph these gorgeous, deep, deep red, almost exotic looking flowers. From a distance, from their colors, I had thought perhaps they were chili peppers but they were not.

As I was angling the camera for one more photograph, I heard the clear, masculine voice-- May I help you? He walked over from a side yard as I said-- yes, what are these flowers? I haven't seen anything like them.

I am not sure what he thought I had been doing; but as soon as he heard the question, he was eager to tell me all about them. Amaranthus, he said. No, they wouldn't be limited to the temperate region around Palo Alto. He felt confident I could grow them. Despite their height, they are annuals which will reseed every year. He said some might consider them weeds, but they are easy to control. They are also edible.

We talked awhile longer about this and that, and then he said, would you like some seeds? Would I like some seeds? I had been wondering whether my local seed store would have them, trying to remember the correct spelling he had told me. I was happy when he cut off a flower head, put it in a sack and even added a few seeds for a yellow amaranthus.

Later research online told me Amaranthus are also called Love-lies Bleeding. How could one not love a flower with such a name? They are used by the Hopi for their red dyes (possibly Navajo also as I see that same shade of red in my Navajo rug colored by natural dyes), were used by the Aztec in some of their ceremonies, and have appeared in poems. Whatever drew me down the right block to see them and brought that man out to take time to tell me about this beautiful plant, I have been enriched.

Gardeners are nice people.