Poetry Friday: A Poem For A Weed

Today a poem about dandelions. Its high dandelion season here at our house, all the roadsides and wilder lawns dotted with yellow and the air heavy with their sweet nectar scent.

 Weeds are in the eye of the beholder. I've never lived in a house with a manicured lawn so anything that flowered was allowed and maybe even encouraged. All things have their place, especially in a wilder kind of horticulture.

Dandelions are an exotic, invasive but they have taken hold in the hearts of all children. Who doesn't have heartwarming memories of playing with them as little tikes? I love watching my boys play with them and I wonder if my sisters think of me like I think of them when I see them start to bloom every spring.

So, Lockbox, Foxy, Song, and Doubleddog.....here's to the sisterhood! This one's for you.


Dandelion Season

As a girl I loved the scent of dandelions
A warm smell of sunshine in honey sauce.
Sniffing the blossoms was a kind of food
To my sisters and myself, a conjuror's dessert
We played that the milky sap was Elmer's 
Our fingers tacky from the bitter, gloss.
We tore open innumerable flowers,
Beads of white swelling from the stems
We would squat in the sand on the driveway
And squint our eyes fiercely at each other
Smearing the flowers across our cheeks,
Leaving pale yellow racing strips behind.
We braided the stems into crowns to wear
And learned that dandelion stems are variable
Sometimes stiff and no longer than your thumb
Sometimes long and willowy and braid-able on and on
Around the head until your crown grows fat.
One time I left my diadem on the dashboard
Of our car and found the next day that magically
It had turned into a delicate, brittle circlet
Of wishing puffs....

Mauve + Sage For Autumn

 

Coordinating your morning coffee with a bouquet you buy for yourself.....highly recommended. I realize that the orange/red/yellow palette is the bread and butter of fall but isn't soft pink, and dusty sage on the list as an avante guarde autumn look? It must be. I just added it to the list. 

Feeling so scattered at the moment. Lots on my mind. So many jobs and ideas that are chattering in my mind. (must make lists!) And so much fervor waiting in the wings too. I can feel the off-stage clamor. Had a long, frantic dream last night about..."OH NO...its Christmas morning and I forgot the stockings!!!! QUICK!!!! Solve that problem before the kids wake up." 

That's one way to wake up peppy. Heh. I was jazzed on stress for a while even though I woke up to a quiet house with no Christmas in sight for weeks and weeks. 

Wound down by having whispered early morning conversation in the kitchen with Lockbox while she packed her lunch. I can't even really explain how much I love having her here for the sake of companionship and warm noshing. Its like a hit of college dorm-room camaraderie minus the ridiculous exams and sob fests over boyfriends. Tonight we are going out together after dinner for a sister-outing too which means meaningful discussion + mind-relaxing laughter at both ends of the day. Perfect way to start the week.

 

Sister Paint

Lockbox and I together are a little combustive. I don't mean that we conflict but more that like a combustive engine we are a positively explosive combo. The two of us here in the house means that suddenly we're caught up on the washing, planning art projects, starting new books with the boys and randomly busting open cans of wall paint! Huzzah!

The other night when we were sitting around together, plotting the final hours before A came home and what still needed to be finished...we got the urge to paint. With no real warning we found ourselves in the dining room with paint and brushes, screeching all the furniture to the center of the room and skipping the whole taping off the edges part. Bam. The dining room is that beautiful Swedish grey I've been contemplating. I went with the darker color that I wasn't sure I was brave enough to try and we repainted all the gloss white trim to contrast.

I love it.

Lockbox is galvanizing for me. She tells me to go ahead and do the things I am bashfully considering and then volunteers to hold the ladder.

Love sisters.

We Be Jammin'!

We picked strawberries this past weekend at our local u-pick strawberry farm. Such a highlight of the year! I always make enough strawberry freezer jam to last us all winter and pretty much every time we get out a new jar we have a conversation about how good the jam is and how when it is June, we'll go pick more together. I am part squirrel, I swear, there's a manic little rodent thing in my soul that is mad for storing away goods. I love to pick and dry and can and freeze and all the other things one can do to fruits and nuts and berries and mushrooms. One of the hardest things about our annual strawberry pick for me is stopping. There are so many berries and I could pick for hours...days maybe, I've never tested my resolve.

When I was a little girl, I always rallied all my younger sisters (all four of them) and marched them down the road with baskets in hand to the top of a meadow on a two-track where wild strawberries grew. We'd pick every last wild strawberry we could find, and then I'd come home with my greedy little hoard of tiny berries and I'd make wild berry jam. My siblings were incredibly tolerant of my driving really, that's love. I hope I didn't injure any of their psyches too deeply, I still think gratefully about their faithful support of my obsession every year when we go picking big, abundant domestic berries.

It was important to the little girl me to be out there in the field on my hands and knees every summer, with all my sisters around me, rolling those tiny red bits into our baskets. I looked forward to it every year, it made me feel frugal and special and I felt really loved by my little sisters for their dedicated picking, even though it wasn't their personal dream. I don't think I could have made wild strawberry jam by myself, but many hands made light enough work that we could pull it off. And I felt like I had rubies in my pantry after I'd jarred up a glittering jar or two, all full of our tiny, hard earned prizes.

 Delicious, and mommy-friendly level of work recipe for the strawberry pie I made with the "leftovers," can be found right here!

I was lucky to marry a man who loves fresh fruit and u-picking almost as much as I do. He's absorbed my foraging love and eats my canned goods with gusto. (I love you A!) He marks strawberry season and cherry season and peach picking in his calendar and makes sure that we schedule each picking event. And my little boys have now the joined the team, energetic pickers, even little Nib plucking berries and saying smilingly "Hep! Hep!" ( Baby-speak for "I help, Mommy!") And my squirrel-mommy heart swells. Such a good life.