For Agnes

My wee old Gran used to grow beautiful scarlet pelargoniums on her balcony in the bleak concrete estate in the far flung east end of Glasgow.
With its flaking whitewash and the aromatic fragrance of their leaves these vivid blooms brought a glimpse of Mediterranean sun. She used the poor soil from the 'back court' and as far as I know never fed them, but they grew tall and vigourous every summer.
I have always loved them and I hope it becomes mandatory for every home to have at least a window box in Scotland, in memory of all of our wee grannies.

This is a cutting waiting to be potted on the kitchen window sill, the gardening books say you shouldn't let them flower but Agnes never read a gardening book.