I did something really silly, not recently but sometime in November. I bought hyacinth bulbs and then went about following all the appropriate steps to force them. Every year I force flowers so that by this time I can stave off the winter crazies with a taste of spring. The only difference this time was the chosen flower - usually I'm a amaryllis and paperweight person - for some reason I decided to stray from the beaten path.
I now have a little problem, don't get me wrong all the bulbs have bloomed and I have lovely flowers surrounding me but I hate them. It's the smell, sickly sweet and almost rotting, that I can't stand. The funny thing is I know that I don't like the smell of hyacinths so whatever compelled me to grow them is beyond me.
Because I can't make myself get rid of all the plants I've been coming up with solutions to the stench. Most of these have been ineffectual - pear scented candles and hyacinth are not a good combo, take it from me. The best it has smelled in over a week was on bread day, the sent of yeast can overpower just about anything. A close second was today's lunch, somehow the sharp cheddar dominated the aroma contest. One full hour of pure grilled cheese bliss.
Despite today's success I'll be getting rid of the hyacinths next year. Don't get me wrong they are pretty but I can't be bothered to look up from my knitting once every few minutes trying to figure out what's rotting. Maybe I can get back to Serrano now and finish the body in a timely fashion.