After decades of trying to bend the will and shade of these hydrangeas I have finally accepted their refusal to be anything other than light pink, and more than that I am embracing such a choice because that’s what they were born to be. Amending the soil with acidifiers and coffee grounds and rusted nails would momentarily yield a more bluish tone, but invariably they returned to purple and then pink, and appreciating a plant for its natural state in its home soil is another valuable lesson that the garden has imparted.
Forcing things, aside from bulbs in the midst of winter, rarely turns out well, and nature will always work around it. A river bends but rarely breaks. These hydrangeas yearn to be pink, and being pink is part of their basic make-up, their interior soul that always finds expression at one point or another.
It’s so much simpler to enjoy a blooming hydrangea when you embrace whatever shade it deigns to appear as. And who could ever find fault with pink and cream and green?
