As you may know, Dad was quite the gardener. His tendency was to tend (ha!) plants that produced edibles. He also grew some flowers, because he knew Mom loved them. He only kept one rose bush downstate, because they took too much fussing. The rose grew next to the grapes and on the same trellis.
Dad also wasn’t much for bulbs, like these iris, although we had wild ones that survived on their own on the property up north. Now, in the sense that you plucked them out of the soil in the autumn, and replanted in the spring, onions are darned similar to flower bulbs. And he did grow onions (and garlic).
The dogwood was totally in Dad’s wheelhouse, in that it takes no fussing once it’s established. However, the dogwoods of southern Michigan (that I remember) are swamp-loving red osier dogwoods, and so not suited for the downstate yard. Today, I was surprised to find this one in bloom; the others I saw were the pointy-petaled dogwoods—the rest of the round-petals have finished.
Progression of the dogwood blooming season…and today is 101 years since Dad was born. Me, I don’t garden much, but I’m good with photographing garden products, whether fruits, veggies, or blossoms.