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One Pink and One Yellow

My Knock Out yellow rose bush has profusely bloomed this summer, and I have brought many of the flowers into the house to enjoy. The four pink ones have been pathetically barren, with only a few random blooms through the season. Imagine my surprise when John cut one last pink and one last yellow flowers a few minutes ago; now they are sweetening the smells of fresh air on my porch.

For as long as I can remember, my criteria for richness has had to do with flowers in my yard. Neither an English castle nor plenty in the bank have been on my list of must-haves in my dreams. It has always been about flowers to pick in my own yard.

Maybe it has to do with the dandelions that I would seek out as a child; I can remember my fascination when I blew on them. It wasn’t the yellow flowers that intrigued me but the white seed head. I loved watching the seeds fly near and far. There was never a pattern to their journey. They only scattered on the whim of the breeze or my breath.

For a child who loved to read and lived the stories as she turned the pages, it was simple entertainment. But my imagination followed those white seeds, as I wondered where they would land. There was a delicacy to those white, lacy parachutes, and their fragility reminded me of my dreams.

My favorite place to read on a blanket was under several dogwood trees in the front yard. Dandelions liked their shade. Sometimes I drive by my childhood home and smile at those trees that provided me such a wondrous place. There is nothing like your own secret garden.

I don’t see dandelions much anymore. They used to be more prevalent. I hope other children are enjoying their wonder.

David Harris wrote a poem about a dandelion.

“Dandelion ”

Dandelion in grass
Head cotton ball white
Seeds ready for flight
9 June 2009

Elizabeth Lawrence said, “There is a garden in every childhood, an enchanted place where colors are brighter, the air softer, and the morning more fragrant than ever again.”

I hope we always take the opportunity to encourage today’s children to search for and find their gardens. It will be a sense of place that will never leave their memories.

 

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