Oh, Camellia. . .

Today's post either has everything to do with coffee or nothing to do with coffee. It depends on how you look at it.

When I picked up my morning paper (with my first cup in hand), the headline of the Garden Section grabbed my attention. It was a feature story about camellias. You know the flowers. And looking at the picture made me almost cry. I started thinking about my mother and how she grew the most beautiful camellias. Actually, my mother could grow anything.

And then I started thinking about how I had intended to take a bunch of daffodils from my yard to the cemetery before they withered away and how there's never enough time in the weekend to do all the things I plan. Which made me realize that my daffodils didn't hold a candle to my mother's camellia bushes. And how I wished that I hadn't ignored her half the time when she was talking because then maybe, just maybe, I would know more about camellias and flowers and how to do laundry better.

And then the more I drank from my cup, the sadder I got because then I remembered how when I first introduced Mama to gourmet coffee how much she enjoyed it and that she really didn't want to drink instant anymore. And then I started thinking that she was a master gardener but I'm a coffee gourmand. Or, at least I appreciate good coffee.

And that leads me to my last point which is would you rather have a beautiful garden or a Ph.D. in "coffee-ology?" And since I'm never going to be a great gardener, I will continue in my pursuit of the perfect cup.

Ain't it funny how one thing leads to another?