Blossoms Brighten Our Lifes

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.

Another Teenager, Dandelions, Old Age, and Softball

We just came home from celebrating our grandson Sam’s 13th birthday. With a band trip coming up to Illinois State at Bloomington/Normal, he declined the recent custom of celebrating with buddies and asked his folks to just have his grandparents over this year. It has been awhile since we were the honored guests, so both sets of grandparents were glad to oblige. It was great fun to see him receive his new guitar that he is eager to learn. Lessons have been arranged, so we are looking forward to hearing him play at his next birthday--if we get invited for that occasion again that is. Otherwise we will just listen as we have opportunity.

The table flowers tonight were scarlet azaleas from their front yard. I had picked some lilacs from Katherine’s little bush on the side of the house Monday and taken them in so she could enjoy their fragrance. The tall dogwood in their back yard is flowering gloriously; and beneath the dogwood and even further out, the ground is covered with sweet purple violets. These are especially welcome to view out their bedroom windows since the derecho did severe damage to their back yard a year ago. They are gradually getting it back in shape, which was no small chore for David.

Going to town right now is especially pleasurable because so many lawns have bright flower beds and flowering trees and shrubs. Beautiful yards are probably kinder to passers-by than the home owners, who often see their own flowers briefly when they enter the house by the attached garage. This is similar to people who make efforts to look attractive. They only see themselves a few minutes in the mirror, while the rest of us get to enjoy their beauty for much longer periods of time. Some people think the beauty-conscious folks are vain, but I think they are generous and are being good to those of us who look at them.

Our azaleas are just now beginning to bud, and the other grandmother tonight said theirs were also still in the bud stage. We have the best crop of dandelions that we have had in years, and I notice many other folks do too. I love their bright circles and think they make a lawn even prettier, but Gerald does not appreciate them. Our lane was bordered on both sides with a row of dandelions that had not been there in past years, and I was enjoying them. But before they took over the grass on both sides, Gerald sprayed them last week. Since he cares for the lawn, I could not complain. (At least not very much.)

When I was working in the flower beds the other day, we quickly ran out of mulch. Gerald brought in a large amount in his pickup today and placed it in plastic garbage cans close to where I need it. So I have tomorrow morning’s work cut out for me.

Another neighborhood death occurred on Monday for a sweet friend from long ago. Our two youngest children were in the same class through twelve years of school. She has been housebound for several years now. Her husband also has been very sick for a long time. Their four sons and wives have coped beautifully during these many years providing care themselves when the parents were less handicapped and then adding extra workers when constant care became needed.

Today’s son and wife and the helper staying with the husband before tomorrow’s funeral encouraged him to brag on the cake I took over, and he graciously did so. But I could tell he did not remember me, and I saw a tear in the daughter-in-law’s eye as I felt a lump forming in my throat. It hurts so to see previously strong independent folk become weak and elderly. I remember those years when we watched our parents age. It makes me wonder what is ahead for those of us just a few years younger than the neighbor.

Since we don’t write the script, we’ll take what comes and try to reap whatever benefits are available in the often sad last chapters of life. My father especially had never known any kind of health problems until his last decade or so. He had always been intensely independent and always a helper of others rather than needing help. I was pleasantly surprised at how well he accepted the limitations that Parkinson’s Disease and heart attack and stroke imposed upon him. I am going to try and keep his example in mind as I continue to age in the years ahead. On the other hand, I may turn out to be a real pill.

To end on a happy note, University of Georgia softball team won both games in their double header against Mississippi State at Starkville last night.  Between phone calls and a visitor, we listened and cheered them on.