They're just going by, up in Rhode Island. Lily of the Valley always makes me think of my mother; they are one of her favorite scents. She also loves pansies, because "they turn their faces to the sun". In other words, they have a good attitude. Geraniums are the flower of silliness. My mother is decidedly NOT a gardener. Dirt under nails horrifies her--"Don't touch my piano with those hands..." And now, I check my sons' fingers when they sit at the keyboard. (Not that they dig gardens, either. Not yet, anyway.) Who do you think will be cleaning those keys?
Don't you love the flower lore handed down from one generation to the next?