We’ve had quite the rainy month of May in central Texas. The weeds are loving it and are growing like . . . well, weeds.
Thistle
Reply
Category Archives: Flowers
Ice Cream with Sprinkles
Story #25 for Story A Day Challenge May 2016
Ice Cream with Sprinkles
“Ice cream with sprinkles!” Jasper turned his head as his mother carried him down the sidewalk past the Magnolia trees.
“Jasper, those are flowers, not ice cream with sprinkles. Magnolia flowers. Mag-no-lia. Can you say Mag-no-lia? Here,” she said, walking across the grass. She hoisted Jasper up a little higher. “Smell them. Don’t they smell good?”
He leaned over, touching his nose to the white petals.
“Careful,” Angie cautioned, “there might be bees. Bees take the pollen and make honey.”
Before Angie could stop him, Jasper plucked a petal and started eating it. “Ice cream with sprinkles!” Jasper happily announced.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sunflower Forest
Story #23 for Story A Day Challenge May 2016
Sunflower Forest
“Look, Daddy, a sunflower forest!”
“You’re right, sweet pea, it is a sunflower forest!”
“Why are they all facing that way?”
“To get as much sunshine as possible. That’s helps them grow.”
“Can we stop and see?”
“Sure, sweet pea, we have a little extra time.”
“One day, Daddy, I’m going to be as tall as a sunflower tree.” She reached up her arms, spreading them wide. “Look at me, Daddy, I’m growing!”
“Well, right you are! Why, look how much you’ve grown just since you got out of the car.”
“You, too, Daddy, you too. Don’t you want to be a sunflower tree?”
“An excellent idea, sweet pea. Anyone in their right mind would want to be a sunflower tree.”
Father and daughter smiled at each other as they stood at the edge of the sunflower forest, reaching up.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Run for the Roses
Story #07 for Story A Day Challenge May 2016
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Run for the Roses
Laura adjusted her ear buds and set her mini player to ‘shuffle.’ It was Friday and she was so tired from the work week, she couldn’t make any more decisions, not even which songs to play.
She had worked late – again – and the joggers on the trail were starting to thin out by the time she arrived. “Still time for a 3-mile loop before sundown,” she decided. She put herself on autopilot: stretching just a little, walking some to warm up, then breaking into a slow jog. It was hot and humid, but the shadows provided a little bit of comfort as she passed under the tall, older trees.
Somewhere around the half-way mark, Laura stopped, walking over to the water fountain. After taking a drink, she turned towards the lake and saw the rose blooms hanging from the pergola.
“So pretty,” she thought, “I bet it looks gorgeous from on the water. Anyone in a canoe will get a great view.”
Someone came up beside her. Jerry, a guy she knew from the trail. Every once in a while they finished running at the same time and chatted a few minutes before getting in their cars to leave.
“Hey,” Jerry said, removing his ear buds.
Laura took hers out, too. “Hey. Aren’t you here a little late?”
“Yeah, well, sometimes that can’t be helped. Even if I have to cut my run short, I still feel better for making the effort.”
“I know what you mean.” Laura nodded her head. She reached to turn down her music. She’d had the volume up to help block out the office issues that plagued her.
“Is that Run for the Roses I hear?”
“Oh, um, yes,” Laura blushed at getting caught listening to an oldie. “It’s a song my parents played quite a lot.”
“Must have been the thing back then. My mother loved that song. I think she was not-so-secretly in love with Dan Fogelberg. ‘Course, we lived in Kentucky and it got played over and over at Derby time. She never got tired of it.”
“Did you dance with her?”
“You better believe it.” Jerry laughed. “No southern gentleman raised in her house was going to get out the door without learning how to waltz.”
Smiling, Laura said, “Well, we have roses and the whole pergola to ourselves. Would you care to dance?”
A second of silence, then two.
Reaching out his hand, Jerry said, “It would be my pleasure.”
A cool breeze drifted in from the lake, swirling the rose fragrance around the couple as they waltzed under the blooms, music softly escaping from Laura’s ear buds they held in their joined hands.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
No Room But For Love
Story #02 for Story A Day Challenge May 2016
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
No Room But For Love
It was here they used to sit and talk. They came outside to escape the stuffed heat of an old building without air conditioning. Andy would announce, “Table for two, now open on the lanai,” as if he were a maître d’. Waiting for a breeze, they chatted.
Spring and autumn were their favorite times, when the weather was changing, when relief came in the guise of early spring days with a hint of warmth, or shorter autumn days, breaking the relentless grip of summer’s heat with splashes of cool nights.
Barbara always had flowers of some kind on the table. “Makes it look classy,” she said. Here, they’d share their day with each other. Their conversations started out with the usual complaints: problems with their apartments, teens out late in the neighborhood, prices at the grocer. Their bodies were a constant source of surprise, things going wrong in places and ways not covered in high school biology classes. Sometimes one would say, “It’s better than the alternative, right?” and the other would concur, nodding, smiling.
Once they got the opening routine out of the way, they drifted to more interesting subjects: memories, future plans, art, music, books, people, gardening. There was so much to enjoy in life and they were determined to enjoy their little part of it.
The table was just the right size for two, their ideas, hopes, and dreams. They built an imaginary field around it, protection from life’s rough edges.
***
The sirens were loud, insistent, rude. The ambulance drove away, stealing Barbara from the shelter of their sanctuary. Andy stood under the wisteria blooms, vision blurred by tears, breathing blurred by heartache.
After Barbara’s funeral, he sat at the table, not wanting to look at the empty seat. He decided not to let sadness creep into their refuge. He kept the table covered in flowers, so there would be no room for sorrow, no room but for love.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It's a long story ... 