- Description: Honey bee on calyx of goldenrod (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
I had it all in my head this morning. I knew exactly what I wanted to write about, even if I didn’t have the details. That is, until I read my Best-Friend-Blogger’s post this morning, and that’s when I knew I must change directions. That’s the way it sometimes works for me: the details flow through my fingers when I’m not paying attention, and I focus on a weed.
When I was a little girl, the pastures were full of flowers: Milkweed, clover, grasses, mustard, coffee, dandelions, cornflower, picker bushes, rambling rose, and Queen Anne’s Lace. Me and Bonita and Vickie went on adventures in those fields. Every step was full of different smells and tastes. Of course we tasted things. Mom told us we could die or get a stomach ache. We never did.
The front view of a Four-leaf clover. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Clover grew way down low under the clothesline. Deanna tried to find a four-leaf clover, ’cause Continue reading
Grandma Z and me
I hate weeds. I have since I was a little girl. Still, I love flowers and vegetables and being out in the yard plucking and pruning. I have since I was too little to remember. Perhaps it allows me to share in creation. Perhaps it gives me some feeling of control over something. Yet, sometimes I let a plant grow, just to see what it becomes. I fail to recognize, categorize, or otherwise understand whether it is friend or foe. Like camping, gardening was passed on from one generation to another.
Mom loved to garden, but she had no luck at all. The only flower she grew was gladiolas. I hate those things, ’cause everybody sent those to funerals. Smelling them made me think somebody died. The glads, as Grandma called them, were back behind the sandbox, beside the asparagus. Mom was good at growing asparagus, but not so good at cutting it, on account of asparagus grows super fast and gets woody, then it’s no good to eat. I liked the way it looked when Mom forgot to cut it and it went to seed. It got all feathery soft, like something that grew on a far off planet I saw on The Outer Limits. That show gave me the heebie-jeebies, not so much when I watched it, but after I went to bed. That’s part-way why I never slept with my toes or had sticking out of the covers.
Mom tried and tried to grow a smoke bush, but somebody kept running over it with the lawnmower. No matter how much staking and flagging she did, that smoke bush was dust. She probably should have planted Continue reading