Dime Bag of Weed

Recently our son, Luke, posted this entry on his Facebook feed, "My plan to get the children to weed the backyard by playing Find All the Dandelions did not go very well." His post elicited a variety of reminiscences and responses including a memory from his parents of how Daddy D persuaded young Luke and his brother to rid our lawn of the pesky weeds. Our two sons were offered a nickel for the removal of each plant. My husband's sister, Ruthie, remembered being paid ten cents for a grocery bag of the yellow-flowered weeds in a much earlier time. Ruthie also reported that Daddy D and brother Dan would fill their sacks with Ruthie's flowers in order to earn the dime.

Although the task of removing spring dandelions from a yard is daunting if not impossible, the yellow flower also brings to mind many fond memories. Think of the many bouquets offered to moms and grandmas by tender children holding a fistful of dandelions in chubby little hands with that special look of love and pride. Picture a toddler sniffing the first dandelion appearance in a lawn as if smelling the sweetest rose.

When composing this post or any post, I confess to being enthralled with determining the perfect title. This particular title although provocative more or less created itself. Admittedly, dandelions are weeds, but the term, weed, as no biological meaning. A weed is merely a plant that grows where that plant is not desired. Then, of course, there is the common slang definition of the word, weed.

Dime Bag of Weed

In any event,  the cheery dandelions bring a smile to my lips and a lift to my spirit as I remember fondly picking dandelions for my mom, receiving yellow bouquets from my young sons, and seeing my sweet grandchildren gathering flowers for their parents.

Death Be Not Proud

Note: This post from August 2006, one of my favorites,  is from my earlier blog, Spring of the White Robin.

Death be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so… John Donne

Having returned from a walk in the cemetery, my thoughts turn to death. Well, I am not thinking about death so much, but what people think about death. As a child, I was terrified about the thought of my own demise. I obsessed about how, when, and why this might occur. Fast forward 50 years, to today, I find that my attitude towards death is not one of fear. I have a good life,  a wonderful family, and steadfast friends.

Walking in the cemetery has been a family tradition for a number of years. We moved into our house when our first son was 13 months old. The house is on a busy street not a block away from a large cemetery. Our custom strolling in the cemetery began very early in his life. The graveyard provided a place to walk with few cars as well peaceful surroundings. This particular site has majestic trees, lovely flowers, and at the time ducks. The cemetery provided a perfect spot to amble with our baby. I did not give it much thought that is where dead people resided. We referred to the walks as “going to see the ducks.” As the years passed, we continued the walks with our second son and many of the neighborhood children. From time to time, we even had picnics on the lawn. As the children grew, there were fewer walks through the local graveyard. But there were occasional bike rides, and the traffic-free roads provided a safe place for our driving novices.

Today, our sons are married and live in another city. However, my husband and I still enjoy a leisurely walk in the cemetery. The ducks are gone, but today we saw a great blue heron, and all sorts of wildlife, turtles, fish, dragonflies, and more. Now, some may find this practice creepy, but I enjoy a good walk in the park (errrr…cemetery.) How about you?

New Beginnings

Happy August 1, I love new beginnings, fresh starts, turning over a new leaf, or any other well-worn cliche about this being the first day of the rest of your life. Even if the the start of a a new month, a new year, or a new day is an artificial opportunity for change, I relish turning the page on the calendar. I welcome the newness yet to come.

On this blog in July, I faithfully posted a Photo-a-Day trying to meet the schedule with the appropriate picture. In most cases, I enjoyed looking for the right photo to match the word or theme. In August, my approach to this blog will be somewhat different. Although I may post an occasional or even frequent photograph for the August Photo-a-Day, my intent is to concentrate on composing posts about a variety of topics.

I hope that this day is wonderful for all of us as this is the first day of August...Rabbit, rabbit.

Last July Picture

I think that today's theme for Photo-a-Day is a bit unusual. Today's word is toothbrush. Now, a talented photographer can create some drama with any subject. Although I am not especially creative, I present my toothbrush photograph.

A Baby When He's Sleeping...

The word for the Photo-a-Day for July 30 is calm. A wonderful calmness comes with sleeping babies. This is our youngest grandchild, son of Luke and Frema.

Last Purchase

Today's theme for Photo-a-Day is the last thing that you bought. This is what I bought this morning. After a bout with an intestinal infection, I suspect that my system has become lactose intolerant.  I am intending to try this soy milk which is lactose-free. After many years of a three glasses a day habit, I miss drinking milk.

Loving Cup

The word for Photo-a-Day for July 28th is cup. I won this tiny trophy in the late 1960's. This trophy was for my less than spectacular performance on my bowling league. Even though this was awarded to me for being the league's worse bowler, I am somewhat proud of the little cup. During that season, I did improve my skills, and every game was great fun. My friends in the league leadership were gracious by only having my name engraved on the plaque instead of "League's Worse Bowler."