Some friends grow flowers. Me, I grow butterflies and barn swallows.
I've managed to keep the herbs alive this year, but efforts at actual flowers still defeat me. On the other hand, the fennel plants I got with the express intention of have someplace other than the dill for the swallowtail caterpillars to do their munchy best have 4 brilliant green chrysalides and 8 more caterpillars in various stages of growth hanging onto the feathery fronds and stalks.
As for the birds, we have a pair of very persistent barn swallows who think that an alcove on the house is the perfect place for a nest. Hard to argue with their point of view, given it's fairly sheltered from wind and weather, with clear approaches for flight paths. I argue anyway, but this year, I looked at them when they arrived yet again, and in the space of a week in which I wasn't paying attention, built a fine new mud nest. "Fine! You eat your body weight in mosquitoes. Keep doing that, and you can stay this year."
They stayed, the were fruitful and multiplied. Twice. I didn't realize the little buggers could have a spring clutch and a fall clutch, but after watching the hilarity of adult swallows giving fledglings flight lessons, there was once again a cheeping noise, and now there are three fuzzy little grey chicks. Okay, this week they've gotten their first adult feathers, so they're not quite as fuzzy as they used to be. Still, that's got to be a crowded nest at night.
So, I grow butterflies, and barn swallows... and books. Getting really close to the end of A Perfect Day (With Explosions), and then I swear, I'm going to buckle down on getting Blood, Love, & Oil out the door before the end of the month.
It's not flowers, but it'll do.