Samantha Gross

Earlier this summer, my husband Quinn gave me a beautiful hydrangea. It was pinkish-purple and in full bloom. I didn’t plant it right away because I wasn’t sure what the right spot would be (the tag said morning sun, partial shade) and we’d have to get it approved by the HOA (eye roll). The hydrangea lived in its pot on our front walkway for weeks (a month? longer?). I watered it occasionally, but that just wasn’t enough, and it withered and browned and started flaking away. I thought it had died.