My mom noticed these way behind the house in the backyard, just at the edge of the woods. I think the flower fairy planted them.


Why is it that I always feel like a murderer after picking flowers?



17 Responses

  1. I feel the same way.

    As far as planting them, when I was talking to a friend about all the raspberries we have, she talked about finding a random rasp plant somewhere. Birds used to hang out above it. There was a raspberry bush near by & they ate the berries – then pooped – therefore planting seeds. LMAO… the circle of life. Cut away, Hooey. Dem are pretty flowers. Life will make more just for you ;)

    • That’s exactly what I thought happened, but my mom pointed out that those are bulb flowers, which means they’re planted. I still don’t know — they’re all over the place down our street.

  2. Meh, if you’d left ’em out there, Owen woulda killed ’em anyway. ;-)


    • Or this very nasty Hail we just had.
      So look at it this way, they are going to live a little longer and you can enjoy them.

    • They’re outside his perimeter, but he probbaly would have found a way…

  3. I know the feeling—I still can’t cut orchids. But I always tell myself it’s just like Doritos: they’ll make more.

  4. I’m noticing you didn’t take a pic of the first spot after you’d plucked the flowers. :-) That might be a better answer to your question, LOL…

    • My mom actually cut them, at which point I was recording that video of Owen at the fence. :)

  5. Once in a golden hour
    I cast to earth a seed
    Up there came a flower
    the people said a weed.

  6. They don’t last very long anyway. Personally, I am waiting for my tulips to pop up. *stares at her bulbs*

    • They had BEAUTIFUL tulips at the country club on Easter. I almost took pictures but it was kind of fancy and I thought they might toss me out. ;)

  7. Beautiful flowers!! I love them!! And they are so spring-like!

  8. I feel the same way! Adam laughs at me because I’ll get flowers in the Supermarket, but won’t pick them from our lawn. I can’t help it. I don’t shoot cows in the head, either. Not that you’re a cow head shooter. Oh, dear. Stop writing, Robin. Turn off the laptop.

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