My brother did not like zinnias. I think they reminded him of little shacks with only a square patch of dirt for a yard and usually a few derelict zinnias popping up here and there. After all we lived in the country and rode the school bus and there were many such little houses in the South. I, on the other hand, loved zinnias. They were colorful, they were persistent, and they thrived in our summer heat. I also loved the little unpainted wooden shacks with the chickens running around, the barefooted children, and the worn dirt paths leading to carefully tended vegetable gardens. Mother liked them too and we would always plant some much to Merrill's dislike. He sarcastically called them "zinnies".
When I knew that Megan would need fresh flowers for her wedding I immediately planted a huge bed of zinnias. They weren't quite ready to use, they were in full bloom a day or so later. Did my brother have anything to do with that? I put him in charge of the weather and he did very well--only a shower at the very end which cooled everything off and made the zinnies pop out almost the very next day! Coincidence? There are no coincidences! So what do You think?
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