Sweet Alyssum

In April, i buy 3 packets of sweet alyssum seed and sprinkle them alongside the walkways and edges of my white garden, the patio, and the little terrace beside the tiny fishpond. Then i forget about them until i see tiny alyssum seedlings a couple of weeks later.

The Farmers Markets open in early May, and i may be tempted to buy a 6-pack of alyssum, but by late May, my seed-sown alyssum start to bloom, and in early June catch up with the plants from the 6-packs.

For 5 months, alyssum are just a frothy white edging like he hem of the flower-ful garden bed. But now, in November, each sweet alyssum is a mound of white foam, and nothing remains in the flower bed to distract me from these steady 6-month bloomers.


Last evening at a hospice fundraiser, a friend listed the friends who have fallen ill or died recently. "So many," she said. "What's happening?"

What's happening is that we, like our flower beds, are aging. Some of us still bloom--like the sweet alyssum.