Hydrangeas and the way perspective changes everything

I grew up with hydrangeas as something fragile.

Back in Belgium, my mother worried about them constantly. Were they surviving the winter. Was the soil too acidic. Would they bloom pink or blue this year. Hydrangeas were not just flowers, they were a responsibility. Their color felt like feedback, a visible response to how well they were being cared for. Too much acidity and they shifted. Too little attention and they suffered. They required watching, adjusting, and a certain quiet vigilance.

To me, hydrangeas were delicate creatures that needed protection.

Then I lived in Japan and married into an entirely different relationship with the same plant.

There, my husband cursed them.

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