I have a mental block against the word hydrangea. Perhaps this will get rid of it for me.
I stand in front of a hydrangea and my brain feels like it is being squeezed. I am taken back immediately to the front gardens of the houses I would pass on my way to the bus stop to go to school.
I hated those hydrangea bushes. They were the epitome of all that was unpleasant about the life I saw around me.
Oh, poor hydrangea bushes, that you should be sacrificed on the altar of my teenage displeasure. Now I try to like you, but I cannot get past you bloody names.
So, here to dispel old traumas – a post in homage to an innocent.
Greek hudro- ‘water’ + angeion ‘vessel’ (from the cup shape of its seed capsule).