Another Day in the Country
Send me flowers
© Another Day in the Country
On Mother’s Day, my daughter sent flowers from some fancy company online that dares to ship fresh flowers through UPS.
The box was huge, very nicely packaged, including a vase.
Some of the flowers were the kind that dry beautifully, so they didn’t bother with water vials for those. The sunflowers had little clear water holders attached to their stems, but not the roses or the peonies.
“Imagine sending peonies through the mail,” I thought to myself, “when there are still some blooming in my yard.”
It’s not that I wasn’t thankful for those flowers. I’m just a frugal sort.
Despite traveling for parts of at least three days, the flowers were surprisingly alive, albeit thirsty. I cut their stems and doused them in very warm water, gave them some food, and hoped for the best.
Should I tell my daughter not to waste her money sending flowers to me long distance? I mulled it over.
A friend came to visit and remarked about how pretty the flowers on my table were.
“Jana sent them by UPS,” I said. “Can you imagine how much that cost?”
Kathy looked at me sternly.
“Don’t you dare say that to your daughter,” she said, “You just say, ‘Thank you. Loved those flowers. Send more!”
It was good advice, and I followed her directions implicitly.
Lots of flowers are blooming in my back yard at the moment.
With recent lovely rains, the larkspur and their little bunny faces are standing tall.
I bought seed to throw into the flower beds in the fall so there would be other colors beside indigo blue, but blue is what we have.
A long time ago, someone gave me poppy seed for those pink poppies that look like peonies. I love those flowers. Once you get them started, they reseed themselves. However, finding the seed to buy is a trick.
I finally found what I thought were those poppies and ordered seed. I threw some in the flower bed where there’s a little bit of everything and eagerly waited for them to come up this spring.
I also planted some in a flat and tried my luck at using a grow light to get them big enough for transplanting. A few survived the ordeal. Very few came up that I’d planted straight into the bed. Those that sprouted were like chocolate candy for my ducks.
To give the poppies a chance to survive, I tucked them here and there, hoping for the best. One plant over by the pond made it.
I cradled that single blossom in my hand. I wouldn’t pick it. I wanted it to go to seed. Wouldn’t you know, someone stepped on it. It was too close to the sidewalk.
Hollyhocks are beautiful this year. Last summer, they showed promise. This year, they are a riot of color.
Every storm, I hold my breath, hoping we won’t get hail. So far, so good. There are several shades of pink, two shades of red, and white.
I decided that I needed to invite precocious 6-year-old Madilyn over and teach her how to make beautiful ladies in gowns out of hollyhock blossoms, just as I did when I was her age — not now, but in a week or two, since they are only now starting to bloom.
Dahlias are coming up in my garden. It always seems such an extravagance to consider them proper flowers for a Kansas garden, but my Grandma Schubert always had them planted near her windmill that pulled vital water up from the depths of the ground.
Four o’clocks were Grandma’s staple, along with hollyhocks and a trumpet vine that climbed the framework of the windmill. For 20 years, I’ve been trying to get a good stand of hollyhocks to no avail, but this is the year. They are beautiful!
We were lucky enough to have cousins in town on Memorial weekend. At the parish hall in Ramona, where we have a town picnic, it was fun to hear the oldsters and the visitors swapping stories.
Mark was telling my cousin Keith about memories of baling hay with him.
“You were a stud,” he exclaimed, admitting that he was quite a bit younger and in awe of Keith’s ability to toss hay bales around.
Keith loved the compliment. I know he is reading this in the newspaper. C’mon Keith, admit it. Those were the days.
While we grownups love the stories, it’s hard on kids in the crowd, just sitting around.
Miss M. sidled up to my sister and said, “Would you like to go on a walk with me or just sit around listening to all these stories?”
She was very diplomatic.
On another day in the country, they went on a walk!