A leggy, blush pink geranium sits soaking up the sun in its crock near the kitchen window. When it came time to pull the annuals last fall our dear, disabled friend protested loudly. He lobbied hard for this one and I didn’t have the heart to uproot it. We kept watering and he checked on it all winter whenever he visited. My reward has been these blooms gracing our kitchen long before the new spring flowers reach the nursery. Very often, sentiment beats out practicality around here. I never regret that.