Addiction Recovery Story #19, Virginia Bluebell: Fences Help a Garden Grow

My stories here have focused mostly on my unsteady footing. Although I say I broke up with sugar, I’ve reported on slips since starting this series January 31. I promised myself — and you — that I would face and write about feelings that come up when I put down sweet treats. Now these will be “Addiction Recovery” stories. I am on my way.

One of my goals is to grow—and honor—Virginia Bluebells. Link from Native Wildflowers Nursery in Tennessee.

Bluebells are beautiful.

And their fragrance, distilled into a pretty bottle, or a jar of rich cream, is intoxicating. British perfumer Jo (Joanne) Malone sells a heady Wild Bluebell fragrance. I’ve had a spritz in the brand’s boutiques and, years back, in an alcove at Bergdorf Goodman. But I have not yet splurged/bought anything in the line, not even the liquid Body & Hand Wash.

Oh, Bluebell, I say to the salesperson as I breathe in the scent.

Wow. That smells so good. I can’t get it today, but one day, I will.

The salesperson smiles. I turn away, looking longingly at the bottles. I leave with a Bluebell dream in my pocket, heading back to my ordinary life.

I love blue, purply blue and purple garden flowers. Pansies, irises, hyacinths, grape hyacinths, lilacs — and wisteria, the twining vine that covers the outer walls at the Van Vleck House & Gardens here…