I search for
distractions and/or blessings to encourage me these days. Seeing one’s child
suffer is excruciating. Recently a beautiful bouquet was waiting on the dining room table when I came home from
Katherine’s house. Deep pink peonies
mixed with lavender blue blooms filled a gorgeous vase and lifted my late-night
tiredness and depression. The next morning Gerald told me the story behind the
bouquet: my neighbor Mary Lea Kahlor
Burnham had come in and left them for us and phoned Gerald to tell him “a
burgler” had been in the house.
Gerald often does an
extra chore that I have always done in the past or brings me blooms from
outside. (His roses are getting quite beautiful now.) And he too brought me a couple of little bouquets not long after Mary
Lea did. As Mary Lea’s bouquet faded, I
mixed the last blossoms with Gerald’s to stretch my enjoyment as long as
possible. She had told Gerald the
lavender blue blooms from her late mother’s garden were “praying hands” closing
up at night and opening during the day.
I have enjoyed watching them do just that. I tried looking them up on Google, but the
only praying hands there were hostas, and it was the leaves that folded in
prayer, not the blossoms. So I am curious of another name for these small sweet
blooms.
This made me remember
how in my childhood I liked watching to see how my piano teacher’s row of four-o-clocks by her sidewalk always opened their red
blossoms in the late afternoon. Blooms have
often been a source not just of beauty but of fun. One summer down at Mt. Airy Farm, my mother
had snap dragons, and I enjoyed a lot of fascinating play snapping them. Of
course, in those days, you could also tell if someone liked butter by holding a
dandelion under the chin. If the yellow
were reflected, you could announce that the person liked butter. And the hollow dandelion stems could be put
together into a ring and added to others to make a chain much like the classic
red and green construction paper chains at Christmas. Even prettier chains were
made by knotting white clover stems around the blossoms. I hope today’s children are still enjoying
these gifts from nature.
I watched with
pleasure in May when once again a large ring of mayflowers showed up in Mary
Lea’s meadow. I wanted to stop and go
over and look under the green umbrella tops to see the little white mayflower
beneath the leaves. But I didn’t. There really is not a very good place to park
right there on our country road. That
together with the fear of ticks, which is rightfully high in our family right
now since grandson Sam contracted Lyme, prevented me from stopping. So I use my imagination to see the blossoms
as I pass by on my frequent trips to Katherine’s.
Now the golden day
lilies that our neighbors Scott and Sonje Cully gave us when we first moved
here have just started blooming again. Profusely. They make a cheerful wall of welcome
beside our house as we come up the driveway and into the garage. I am grateful for the color and the cheer
that good neighbors and bright flowers add to life.
1 comment:
God bless.
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