Friday, 19 June 2015

I Remember Flowers

For many years, our family farmed.  It was the 80's and interest rates were high to the point of insanity.  We had 3 small kids and there were not a lot of jobs in town. Brian worked for his brother's business, spending long weeks away.  He did that for many years till we had no choice and to save the farm, we left it to his brother.  (2 families could not live off one farm then or now, and they had a good stable professional income besides the farm.)

During those years where he worked out, the routine was 2- 3 weeks out and 2 days home.  The home days were also when the farming was done, so time for kids and family was precious and time for Brian personally, almost zip.  One sunny summer morning, he played hooky, and went for a walk.

That one particular Sunday morning, he went out, and I remember how happy he was when he came back to the house.  He had come home, tired and worn out from 12 - 15 hour days, and he was restored by the sun and the smell of summer; of grass, and flowers and leaves on trees and the sound of wind in the trees.  I remember his smile as he walked in the door.

He brought me a big bouquet of wild flowers.  I still remember that.  
Purple asters and white yarrow and goldenrod.  And some of the tall grasses that grew alongside with their droopy late summer seed heads.

I am not much one for bouquets of flowers.  I think it has to do with that.  How do you beat a hand picked bouquet of flowers fresh from the pasture?  

Store bought roses?  Not even close.

Dandelions delivered in grubby hands by grandchildren?  Ok.  That gets close.  Really close.

There are some sweetnesses that cost nothing that stay with you all of your days.  I remember flowers.

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