Windy blues. oh, and wildflowers.

The wind is blowing today. I get tired of the wind, it has always been the only weather that I truly don't like at all. I try telling myself it is spreading seeds so more flowers can grow. I'm sure there are other things about the wind that are good, but I can't think of them. It has been bothering me that I hadn't posted a blog since May. I guess my spring quarter classes did keep me too busy for writing. Now I am taking a writing class. One of the things I have to do is write timed 10 minute journal entries, 7 per week. Since I am not feeling inspired to write in my blog I am going to start sharing my journal entries. Please keep in mind these are not edited.

Journal #4

I’ve often thought about the wildflowers that grew on the bluffs surrounding my little hometown. We used them to fill May baskets that we would leave on the doorsteps of the nice ladies in our neighborhood. There was an award for the child who could bring the first buttercup of the season in to the newspaper each year and you could even get your picture in the paper. I never did find that first buttercup, but I found many others.

We also found what we called picky pies (some people call them shooting stars), bluebells, yellow bells, grass widows and bachelor buttons. When I got married I wanted bachelor buttons in my bouquet and was so disappointed to find that they were actually called “corn flowers.”

We had a hill near our home that we called “the buttercup hill” and you could find hundreds of big, healthy wildflowers there. I loved it so much. When a farm family decided to move to town they built their house there on that hill and I was really mad. I just couldn’t understand how they could destroy my hill of flowers with their dumb house.

When I was a young adult and still visited home a few times a month you could still find lots of wildflowers – but now they seem to all be gone. There are still bachelor buttons but they are sparse and spindly, not at all the hearty blooms that we picked as kids.

I don’t know what happened but have speculated that it was the ash from Mt. St. Helens that killed them all. I have searched the Internet for images of my favorite flowers so I could find their real names. I would love to plant seeds all around my own yard and create my own field of wildflowers. They make me think of so many wonderful things.

We sometimes carried buckets of water and flowers all the way out cemetery road to put on the graves of our departed loved ones.

Last time I visited my mom I picked a sad little bouquet for her kitchen but it doesn’t compare to my bouquets of my memory. It makes me wonder if they weren’t really as big as I remember, but maybe I was just smaller? Why didn’t I take pictures or press them all so I could keep them forever?

That is why we call them memories; they are only in our minds, not tangible things to hold on to. I am a very sentimental person so I tend to get caught up in the “things” in life and the keeping of the “things.”

I’m running out of room, and now I am also out of time!